


On the Threshold

by ghtlovesthg



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday Presents, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 70,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghtlovesthg/pseuds/ghtlovesthg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic in honor of Katniss' birthday. Nineteen and free from the Reapings forever, Katniss finds a token on her doorstep commemorating her passage over the threshold of adulthood. Discovering the identity of the sender will start Katniss on a road that leads toward life's other milestones. Canon-deviating/Canon-divergent story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lintel

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic is inspired by several things. First, the desire to give Katniss a cupcake on her birthday, along with a little happiness. Also, the lovely May Day tradition of anonymously leaving flower baskets on doorsteps provided major inspiration for the whole plot.
> 
> Sadly, I will not be able to post the entire piece today, as I'd hoped - RL has me quite tied up at the moment. The whole tale is planned out, short and uneventful as it is, so happiness shall follow in not too long! I hope you all enjoy! :) And thank you to my amazing beta The RPGenius, for editing this at the drop of a hat!

_"This would have happened anyway" - Mockingjay, page 388_

* * *

 

The cupcake, with its cheery pastel frosting, looked as alien and out of place on her doorstep as Effie Trinket looked standing onstage amidst a sea of miners and their families on Reaping Day.

The dreaded event was little more than a month away. And for the first time in seven years, Katniss would not be standing with her peers, roped in at the center of the square like so much livestock awaiting slaughter.

As of today, she was nineteen.

For Katniss, the fact that she'd avoided the Games was less cause for celebration than most others would find it. She still had to worry about Prim. And truth be told, she'd rather she was still eligible to be reaped than have Prim's slips in that bowl for any more years. So she hadn't really considered the milestone she'd reached, the threshold she'd crossed upon waking up this morning.

Still, she was free of the Games. Safe. Or as safe as one _could_ be, in Panem.

She hadn't thought the day a particularly special one, and she definitely didn't mention it's significance to anyone. It might have slipped her mind, but for the solitary cupcake sitting on her doorstep.

Someone knew it was her birthday. And it mattered to them.

Katniss crouched down and regarded it thoughtfully. Usually, she'd be incensed to be offered a handout. But it couldn't be charity. It was too whimsical and far too indulgent on behalf of the giver to be mistaken for anything she _needed_.

A small part of her liked the idea of receiving a little unexpected gift. She hadn't had many pleasant surprises of this nature since before her father died, and the remembrance made the years between stand out starkly in her mind.

It was, after all, completely unsolicited, she reminded herself as she gingerly picked up the confection. That fact made quite a difference, enough for her to accept the little treat- with the promise to find and repay the giver in some small way, of course. Katniss wasn't going to owe anyone if she could help it, not even for a birthday present.

She examined the sweet in her hand. It was perfect in detail, right down to the exquisite trio of petals on the brushed sugar katniss bloom, resting delicately atop rosy icing.

The cupcake was heavier than it looked, and Katniss could only imagine the dense richness of the cake. Something like this was a once in a lifetime opportunity; she'd certainly never have extra for custom-made desserts.

Any time there was a treat to find enjoyment in, Prim got first pick of the object, at Katniss' insistence. But in this case, Katniss wanted to be a little selfish just for once, and be the one to take the first bite. It was a childish notion, and today she was leaving childhood behind. But nonetheless, she would be officially recognized as an adult from this day forward, so any small way to pay homage to the brief scrap of childhood she'd enjoyed was welcome.

Being careful to avoid the perfect flower, Katniss took a generous bite, reveling in the decadence of the gesture. She closed her eyes and held back a moan. It was moist and dense: heaven, pure and simple.

Quietly re-entering the house, she gently set the cupcake on the table. As she was fetching a bowl to cover it, so Buttercup wouldn't eat any before Prim had gotten a taste, she made a decision.

Grabbing a clean dishrag, she returned to the kitchen table. Ever so carefully, Katniss removed the solid sugar flower, a confection in itself, from the swirled tower of frosting. She laid it carefully in the center of the rag and with the edges of the material enfolded it, before tucking it softly into her coat pocket.

The cupcake had clearly been a special request, if it bore her namesake. Aside from her family and Gale's, neither of which possessed the means to purchase such a luxury, who in District 12 would even know what a katniss bloom looked like?

There was only one hand capable of creating such finery, and it was that of the baker, Mr. Mellark. She'd often admired his work in the bakery windows, at Prim's insistence. It was what passed for art in District Twelve. She'd ask him who'd commissioned the treat when she traded with him later today.

Plan in place, Katniss left again for the woods, the pleasant puzzle of the cupcake's source flitting through her mind.

* * *

She rapped smartly on the baker's back door. When Mr. Mellark answered, Katniss gave him her most winning smile before she displayed the squirrels she'd bagged that morning.

He was one of the few merchant clients Katniss really liked, and he was always gratifyingly appreciative of her hunting skills. Once the standard trade had been conducted, she pulled the small, protected bundle from her coat pocket.

"Mr. Mellark, I found a cupcake with this candy flower on my doorstep this morning."

Mr. Mellark looked pleasantly surprised, and Katniss wondered for a moment that he hadn't said anything in observance of her birthday yet. He surely remembered having made the cupcake, and he was the sort of friendly soul who would always wish a happy birthday when he could, despite the fact that happy days were few and far between in District 12. "Could you please tell me who commissioned it from you?"

A knowing look entered his eyes, and his big shoulders shook as he chuckled.

"Well, I can say for sure I've never seen that before, Katniss, so I'm afraid I can't answer your question. But I know who can."

And with a heavy arm around her shoulders, the baker briskly swept her under the lintel of the door and into the warm, golden kitchen.

There was a high workspace at the center of the room, made of thick oak polished to a gleaming gold. It was covered in flour, dough, and baking implements. Standing directly behind the island was the baker's youngest son, blond, stocky, and all too familiar. She'd never imagined it was he who decorated the cakes.

Katniss' breath caught. They'd never spoken, though she'd always been aware of him since that day, eight years ago. His rosy skin shone with a light sheen of sweat in the warm kitchen, and his tousled hair, slightly frizzy in the muggy room, curled closely around his ears and collar. He belonged in this space, fit in a way that was plain to see just looking at him. It was a reassuring image, and Katniss wondered if she looked similar when in the woods.

"Peeta?" Mr. Mellark's jovial voice boomed. "Someone's here to see you."

The boy in question raised his head, his startled blue eyes landing on Katniss. When she saw recognition in his eyes, she also noted apprehension shimmering there like ripples over a deep pool. He looked nervous. Peeta had a little smudge of flour on his lower left cheek, and Katniss madly entertained the notion of brushing it from his skin. Would it be warm? Soft, or rough with stubble?

As they took each other in, Katniss felt a gentle pressure at her back, a distant distraction she stepped forward to alleviate. Having ushered Katniss in Peeta's direction, Mr. Mellark made himself scarce.

"C-Can I help you?" Peeta managed politely. Katniss nodded, and gathering her wits, reached forward to place the candy flower and towel on the work table.

"Do you know who ordered this?" she asked quietly.

Peeta stared down at the object before him. His cheeks were getting pinker with every moment, making the bit of flour stand out starkly against his heated skin. It was as though he was frozen in place, unmoving, save for the intake of breath that expanded his chest. But, she noticed, he held it, and was completely still in contemplation of the object.

"You made this?" she prompted. Peeta nodded hesitantly, his eyes flickering across the counter to her hands, still not quite able to meet her eyes. "At the request of whom?" she urged.

Finally, Peeta met her regard, a worried, vulnerable expression in his own. He seemed almost to be pleading with her, but she couldn't understand why. Why wouldn't he just _tell_ her? She didn't want to bother him any more than he wanted to be bothered. She was clearly upsetting him, but if he just answered, she could be on her way.

"I didn't think anyone in Twelve knew what katniss looked like," she elaborated. "But this is perfect. Did they describe it to you?"

His eyes returned to the work surface. Peeta studied the dough in front of him before responding. "Um, no." He began determinedly rolling out the shapeless lump with a wooden rolling pin, but his movements no longer seemed as sure. Katniss was about to insist he stop ignoring her when he cast a fleeting glance over to the side of the room, almost as if involuntarily. She almost missed it, but she followed the trajectory his gaze had taken. Sitting against the wall on a shelf filled with bowls of all sizes, were two books. One was very old and well-used, untitled, and had bits of paper sticking out between the pages. Katniss hazarded a guess that it was the family's book of recipes. Next to it, however, was a slightly newer book entitled _Flora of Panem: A Compendium._

That must have been Peeta's reference for the decorations on the commissioned cupcake. She'd never seen any sort of representation of a katniss flower before today, just the real thing. Katniss wanted to see the entry for her namesake.

She walked boldly over to the shelf and pulled down the book. Normally she'd never be so brazen in another's home and business, but being ignored by Peeta was making her feel strangely incensed, and something was telling her she should see the page on her flower. Peripherally, she heard Peeta make some token objection once he realized her intention, but it was too late: she was already flipping through the index by the time he'd made a sound. She turned back to the colorful pages devoted to water plants, but the page on katniss was missing. She could see the rough edge where it had been before someone tore it out. Like they'd kept it for themselves.

Katniss' eyes lifted to Peeta's. He stood there helplessly, like cornered prey, as pieces started clicking into place in her mind. If there was no reference page on katniss flowers, Peeta must have already known what they looked like when he made the cupcake. He couldn't have gone outside the district, so he must have seen the missing page. Had he been the one to take it? Judging by the expression on his face, she felt he had. But why?

"No one commissioned it. It was you," she realized. Katniss could see she was right. Peeta looked on, watchful, hopeful.

Katniss shook her head in denial. "No!" This couldn't be happening again. He'd tricked her. Now she owed him even more. She would forever.

And what had his intention been? To remind her of all that was yet unpaid? She could have accepted the gift from _anyone_ else, just this once, on the most important birthday of her life, but not from him. Not from Peeta. Now it was just another line item in the ledger of her insurmountable debt, and she'd walked right into the whole situation.

She hadn't needed it. So why did he have to offer it at all? Why couldn't he just ignore her, why did that day always have to linger in his glances? She put the book back on the shelf as though it was a treacherous object, as though the whole room was one giant snare waiting to entrap her, and she'd unwittingly picked up the triggering mechanism. She looked at the perfect sugar sculpture, sitting innocently on the edge of work table.

"I don't want it," she said solemnly, raising her eyes to his. "Not from you."

He looked shattered, and opened his mouth to protest or explain, but she couldn't bear it. She grabbed her game bag and dashed from the kitchen, her braid flying out behind her.

Dusk found her angrily chucking rocks and pebbles at the tree in the meadow. She felt humiliated and restless and foolish. She just wanted to forget about that day in the rain, forget about that whole year and her eleven year old self. She never would though, and somehow she'd held Peeta responsible.

He'd probably just meant it as a nice gesture. Maybe he looked at her as some sort of little pet project, some success story of his. He had saved her, after all. Maybe he was trying to kindly emphasize how far she'd come. Ironically, it was the remembrance of katniss, of finding herself, that had saved her, and he'd inspired it, a fact he'd unknowingly commemorated on that cupcake. A tiny corner of her mind wondered if it could indicate anything more than just well-meaning kindness. She thought of that missing page in his book and got flustered and uncomfortable all over again.

As she angrily fumbled for the next stone, she inadvertently yanked up a dandelion along with it. She hurled both toward the tree, but the flower landed little more than a foot and half from where she'd thrown it.

It wasn't a pretty dandelion. It was sparse, and half-closed, and about to go to seed. Nevertheless, she felt remorseful and stretched to pick it back up. Idiotically, she felt like she had to make it up to the weed, and carefully tucked the pathetic bloom in the buttonhole of her father's hunting jacket.

She didn't know why she'd overreacted like that at the bakery, didn't _want_ to know why, but she couldn't take it back.

* * *

Prim loved the cupcake. She raved about it for days. Katniss told her the baker had given it to her as an afterthought during an early morning trade, knowing it was her birthday. Without the flower on top, it looked like any other cupcake from Mellark's.

Katniss felt wretched for a week, but wouldn't entertain any explanations other than the richness of the cupcake disagreeing with her.

Charmed at the baker's supposed gesture and finally knowing what cake tasted like inspired a renewed interest in the bakery's window displays for Prim. Katniss had been relieved when she'd seemed to be growing out of it before, but now Prim was forever dragging her to the plate glass windows of Mellark's Bakery again.

Katniss couldn't be sure if she was imagining it or not, but she thought the cake decorations seemed a bit lacking recently. It had only been a few weeks since her birthday, but they just felt…uninspired, compared to what they used to be.

She couldn't stop remembering the shattered expression on Peeta's face when she'd left the sugar flower. A knot of guilt settled in her stomach every time she imagined she might be responsible, and Katniss irrationally worried that Prim would notice the change in artistry on the cakes and somehow sense her sister was to blame.

Aside from stolen glances, Katniss studiously avoided looking past the displays and into the bakery. Those covert looks were enough to tell her that Peeta usually left the front of the store to go out back after she and Prim approached the windows.

In late summer, after the Reaping and Games had held the nation captive yet again, Delly Cartwright got married. As a merchant daughter, she got a proper wedding cake, and it was common knowledge that the youngest Mellark was pulling out all the stops for his childhood friend. Recognizing an opportunity for a little added publicity, Mrs. Mellark insisted Peeta decorate it in the front window of the shop, and little clusters of people would come and watch his meticulous, patient piping.

The finished product sat proudly in the window the day before the toasting ceremony, and it was the finest creation anyone had seen from Mellark's. It spilled over with floral embellishment, each exquisite sugar flower looking like it had just been plucked from the forest.

There were so many types, Katniss wondered if he'd used the whole flower book as reference. But there were no katniss blooms.

As Prim _oohed_ and _aahed_ at the window, Katniss saw Delly enter the family establishment. The vivacious girl waited at the counter as one of Peeta's older brothers fetched him from the back, and she threw her arms around her friend as soon as his tired form appeared. Delly laughed and swayed, and Peeta seemed to be radiating happiness - for the first time in a while, at least as far as Katniss had observed. He looked relieved and gratified at her joy, and seemed to perk up a bit, as a plant might at the first rainfall following a long drought.

It was hard to believe that Peeta could ever have been truly upset that she'd rejected his gift. Katniss must have imagined that he'd cared so much, and wondered at the inexplicable sinking feeling the thought brought her.

Accordingly, the decorative work at the bakery was back to its original standards of excellence. Whatever had been affecting Peeta's work before was doing so no longer.

As Katniss lay in bed at night, flirting with the fringes of slumber, she often got the feeling that she'd missed something important, that something essential and irreplaceable had slipped through her grasp somewhere. When startled awake by the thought, she reminded herself that besides Prim, there was little of value in her life that she could lose and not notice.

* * *

Katniss came face-to-face with Peeta again when the Harvest Festival rolled around. It had been a big year for the wild turkey population and she and Gale had made out like bandits. All the merchants were eager for a bountiful table, and the two hunters quickly sold all the birds they'd bagged at top dollar.

As a result, after replenishing the necessities, Katniss had a little more to spend on Prim than usual at the festival this year. Perhaps remembering the delights of the cupcake, Prim decided she'd like nothing so much as an apple dumpling, the Mellark's signature harvest-time specialty. Neither Everdeen girl had ever tasted one, and hearing they had a little extra to spend, Prim declared that this was the year that would change.

Unable to think about the gooey apples encased in cinnamon-brushed dough without also imagining the skilled hands that may have made them, Katniss couldn't find it in herself to be anything but uncomfortable about the idea. But she pretended to be excited for Prim's sake.

True to prediction, when they reached the little stand arranged by the Mellark family, it was Peeta filling orders, while his mother collected the money.

Katniss' distaste for his mother and the awkwardness of her last encounter with Peeta was almost enough to make her turn around and walk in the other direction. But she didn't, for her sister. She did, however, slow her steps so Prim led the way. No shame in that, she tried to reassure herself.

"Hi!" Prim said excitedly when they'd reached the stand. Mrs. Mellark, who'd always disliked Katniss (for rooting around in her trash that day, she supposed), also seemed to find fault with Prim, for some unknown reason, because she turned away with a superior sniff and moue of displeasure.

Prim, who never knew the exact events surrounding the two charred loaves that saved them, seemed a little taken aback, but rallied and turned to Peeta. He looked apologetic and beat her to the greeting.

"Hi, Prim," he said warmly.

"You know my name?" she asked, puzzled.

Peeta darted a nervous look at Katniss, the first eye contact he'd made with her since they'd approached the stand. "Shouldn't I?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course!" Prim chirped, in her friendly way, "It's only…I don't know yours."

"Peeta," he confirmed, with a glowing smile in Prim's direction. It was so stunning, Katniss felt warmer just standing in its periphery.

When Mrs. Mellark huffed her impatience from the other end of the stand, Peeta schooled his features and got down to business. "What can I get you Prim? And, ah…"

Misinterpreting his hesitance to address the darker Everdeen girl, Prim hastened to introduce them. "Oh! This is Katniss, my sister!"

Peeta mumbled an inane, "nice to meet you" to the ground while Katniss growled, "He _knows_ what my name is, Prim, eager to hurry along her unwitting sister.

Wisely overlooking the odd exchange, the youngest Everdeen pushed onward. "We'd like an apple dumpling please!"

Peeta regained his sunny demeanor in the face of Prim's obvious anticipation, and selected the biggest apple dumpling with a piece of wax paper. But Prim had one last bomb to drop.

"We're so excited to try it, after your dad gave Katniss that cupcake for her birthday!"

Peeta faltered and the dumpling tumbled to the ground. Prim made a small exclamation of dismay.

Their dumpling lay on the stone paving of the town square, and Katniss wished the cobbled pavement would open up and swallow her along with the ruined pastry.

Peeta closed his eyes in dread for an instant before rushing to pick up the fallen sweet, blushing crimson at his flustered reaction to the young girl's words. His gaze swung nervously to the side, checking whether his mother had seen from corner of his eyes. Katniss was enraged on his behalf, that even as a grown man, he had to fear his mother's wrath and displeasure over simple mistakes.

Luckily, intent on _not_ speaking to the Everdeens, Mrs. Mellark had turned her attention to the cider stand owner on their left, and was busy conversing with her fellow merchant vendor about the availability of apples that year.

Peeta breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and placed the recovered dumpling off to the side, away from the others.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, selecting the next biggest dumpling with a fresh scrap of waxed paper. "Here you go," he said, extending the treat toward Prim.

Prim graciously accepted the proffered pastry, but Katniss couldn't help but wonder if Peeta's mother would give him trouble over the pastry that had been set aside from the other, saleable baked goods. Certainly they'd end up eating it themselves, as no family in Twelve was above consuming food that had briefly touched the ground, but it represented a loss in income for the day, and Katniss suspected that Mrs. Mellark was more than cruel enough to make a considerable issue over it.

There was still money in her pocket, enough for a cup of cider each and maybe even a piece of hard candy for Prim, but she quickly recalculated. She could help him out and still have enough to get cider for Prim.

"I'll take that one for half price!" she blurted, far louder than the situation merited, but luckily not enough to distract the Mellark matron from her discussion. Prim turned, startled that she'd suddenly decided to join the exchange, and Peeta's eyes widened, darting up to meet hers questioningly.

"That one," she insisted, pointing rigidly at the discarded dumpling. He wordlessly slipped it into a waxed paper sleeve and tallied the order. Despite her earlier mortification, Katniss couldn't help but notice the length of his eyelashes as he did so. Peeta accepted the coins from her and handed her the change.

Following her little outburst, he couldn't keep his eyes on _or_ off her. They kept flitting between her hands, where he was placing her change, to her face, trying to gauge her thoughts. He still averted his gaze every time she tried to meet it. She stood there a moment too long, and Prim, always wise for her age, snorted in amusement and pulled her to the next stand with a cheerful, "Thank you," to Peeta.


	2. Sill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting this chapter to take so long, but as always, the little plot bunny multiplied unchecked. So this story will be longer than first anticipated, and it's gotten a rating change to M (for future chapters). If anyone is disappointed with that, you can leave a review, PM, or tumblr ask, and I will post a PG version somewhere as well.
> 
> A million thanks to The RPGenius for being my editing hero! This chapter is dedicated to Elisabeth. :)

Katniss slung her game bag higher on her shoulder as she turned from the cobbler's back door. There weren't many merchants willing to trade illegally with someone from the Seam, but she'd luckily been able to find some buyers for the squirrels she no longer traded to Mr. Mellark.

It was midway through winter, and she'd persistently avoided Mellark's Bakery for half a year. Katniss hadn't been there since the debacle on her birthday. She still felt uncomfortably restless and dissatisfied when she thought back on her interactions with Peeta Mellark, so the fewer reminders, the better.

It was unfortunate, because she loved bakery bread. The three Everdeen women had been making do with the coarse, makeshift bread Sae sold with her soup for months. Prim and her mother accepted the change agreeably, continuing to trust her with the majority of the household's finances and supplies. It was a small price to pay to save face. Katniss just hoped Mr. Mellark had found some other way to get meat into his diet, as she had with the bread. Katniss wondered if her absence was still noticed.

Unable to resist, given the direction of her thoughts, Katniss looked behind her toward the bakery's backyard. It was easily visible from the cobbler's back stoop, and she was surprised to see two figures approaching the door.

They were small and dark, likely Seam children. Was someone else conducting backdoor trades with merchants? Katniss had always feared the possibility of competition for clients from another Seam family, one that had grown bold or desperate enough to venture beyond the fence, as she and Gale had. Perhaps they were sending their children to do business in hopes that the merchants would soften the trade for their sake.

She had to know. It could mean her family's survival.

With a hunter's tread, Katniss entered the adjoining backyard, sneaking behind the pigpen and slinking up to the side of the bakery. Moving silently over the barren, frozen ground, she crept closer to the edge of the building, in order to hear the trade.

The two figures had by this time reached the backdoor, and peeking around the corner of the structure, Katniss could see that they were indeed Seam children, sporting the signature dark hair, olive skin, and gray eyes so common amongst Twelve's mining population. They were _very_ young, and she marveled that any family would send such small children to conduct trades, sympathetic advantage or not. There was a girl and younger boy, and they were entirely caught up in their whispered conversation, utterly unaware of Katniss' presence. She could just make out their words.

"I'm scared," whined the boy, sniffling and holding the girl's hand tightly.

His companion shushed him impatiently as he tried and failed to wipe the tears from his face. Each time he'd clear his cheeks, more fat droplets would gather at his lids.

"Look, the men here are really nice. If _she_ opens the door, we'll just say we lost a cat and ask if she's seen it," the girl compromised.

Katniss felt as if she'd been thrown back in time. The little girl was begging for scraps, and the boy in tow was probably her younger brother. They'd likely had success here in the past, but the possibility of incurring Mrs. Mellark's ire was a dangerous gamble. One the little boy wasn't eager to repeat, by the looks of it.

The girl straightened her spine, took a deep breath, and knocked bravely on the heavy door. Katniss was impressed with her mettle; the girl's only concession to nerves was gnawing on the end of a ratty pigtail as they waited.

The parallels between their situation and her past weren't lost on Katniss, and her nails dug into the rough wooden siding of the bakery as she joined the two Seam children, waiting with baited breath to see who opened the door.

As the portal swung open, the boy huddled into his sister's side. Katniss couldn't see who stood behind the door, but knew it must not be Mrs. Mellark by the way the girl slumped in relief.

"Bread for a song, Mister?" the girl chirped hopefully. A man leaned out from behind the door to get a better look at his petitioners, and Katniss was pleased to see Peeta's profile. His questioning look melted into a soft smile, and the siblings on his doorstep beamed back, all tears and fright forgotten. Katniss instantly felt warmer at the sight.

"Do you know the Valley Song?" he asked.

The girl nodded happily, and started an enthusiastic if not tuneful rendition, while her brother looked proudly on. Katniss found it amusing that the old District ballad was Peeta's song of choice. She hadn't thought of it in ages, hadn't heard it sung since…well, she couldn't remember when.

Hearing it again, the lyrics came back to her, piece by piece at the tip of her tongue, as if clamoring to escape into the open air like a flock of mockingjays. But she hadn't sung in years, and she wouldn't be starting now.

Peeta looked as if in heaven, and Katniss focused solely on his expression. His lips curled further at the corners, his smile sweet with just the right touch of nostalgia. This song clearly held meaning for him, and Katniss wondered at what it could be as his eyes closed contentedly.

When the song was over, he gladly handed over a loaf of bread, which Katniss realized he'd been holding since opening the door. Had Peeta anticipated hopeful faces and hungry bellies waiting on his doorstep?

The two Seam children grinned and giggled at each other, turning to leave as Peeta quickly disappeared from sight. Before they could even hop off the bakery stoop, he was back, stepping out onto the threshold with another loaf for the little boy.

The young child was agog, and Katniss could see herself in the girl's gaze - chagrinned to accept such generosity, but too desperate to refuse it. The first loaf was payment, the second was charity. But the girl was unable to deny her famished brother an entire loaf of bread, not with the way his eyes lit up.

Katniss could hardly fault Peeta for wanting to give the children extra. Standing on the other side of the situation now, as a self-sufficient adult, she found it hard to resist pressing some of the coins from her trades into their little hands, even knowing it would be exactly like the charity she always tried so hard to avoid.

He was truly still the boy with the bread, and Katniss was swept anew with remorse for the way she spoke to him last summer.

The little boy whooped with delight, and Katniss didn't know if it was that sound or Peeta's extended absence from the bakery that brought Mrs. Mellark down upon them. There was a sudden, unpleasant racket from within the kitchen, and the two little beggars practically tumbled off the doorstep in their haste to get away, leaving Peeta standing alone and guilty at the threshold of the door.

"Peeta! What's taking you? And who was it at door? If it's dirty Seam urchins again, I'll…"

Katniss saw the two children scampering off as fast as their scrawny legs would take them, but she feared it wouldn't be fast enough to avoid discovery. And even then, would Peeta have an excuse ready?

She sprung forward before Mrs. Mellark reached the door, standing just out of sight to the side, as if she'd been there all along. This had the added benefit blocking the youngsters' retreat from sight. Katniss squared her shoulders and positioned her fists on her hips in a challenging stance, leveling a shocked Peeta with a distasteful glare.

"Your father gives me more for squirrels," she said heatedly, as though they'd been haggling over game all the while. Katniss desperately hoped Peeta would catch on and play it up, because she had nothing left to trade. If her bluff was called in front of Mrs. Mellark, she wasn't sure how she'd explain bartering over an imaginary squirrel.

His blue eyes darted down to her game bag, limp and empty at her side. "I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to trade any more for it, no matter how expertly shot."

Peering nosily over his shoulder, Mrs Mellark's face went from a mask of gleeful satisfaction at hearing her son driving a hard bargain, to one of exasperation, rolling her eyes at the compliment to Katniss' hunting skills. Katniss struggled to suppress a pleased smile at his praise, the complicit amusement sparkling in his eyes not helping her composure. His mother put an end to that.

"If you're not going to conduct a fair trade, girl, get off our doorstep," she snapped. "We're decent, hardworking folk and we haven't got time for shiftless visitors! Peeta, you've got more important things to do than be swindled out of good bread for a mangy rodent," she said nastily, her parting shot an effort to negate his earlier praise.

Katniss gripped her game bag in anger, biting back a retort as she remembered she was doing this for the sake of keeping him out of trouble and preventing the two beggar-children from being discovered. If Mrs. Mellark found out about them serenading her son for bread, she'd be sure to put a stop to it the next time.

His mother turned on her heel and swept out of the kitchen, undoubtedly expecting Peeta to follow. Instead, he turned back toward Katniss and softly closed the door, his eyes intent on hers until they disappeared from view.

Katniss stood at the back door for a moment before turning in the direction of the Seam. That had gone…better than expected, actually. She'd even made Peeta look almost as miserly as Mrs. Mellark. The woman would have to appreciate _that_ , Katniss thought sourly.

Before she'd taken half a dozen steps, she heard the creak of a latch and the scrape of wood as the door pushed open behind her. She braced herself for another rude onslaught.

"Katniss?"

It was Peeta, which was a relief, but nerve-wracking in an entirely different way. His voice was cautiously quiet as her addressed her.

She paused. Part of her wanted to bolt. She'd been embarrassed enough to change her trading habits to avoid him, and he must have seen her bartering at his neighbors' back doors in place of his own. Katniss felt her skin flush at the awkwardness of the situation, her stomach clenching nervously at the thought of conversing with him.

Nevertheless, she turned to face him. Peeta was halfway out the door, and he closed it behind him once it was clear she would stay. He approached her until he stood only feet away. And he was still readily meeting her eyes, so different than the last two times they'd spoken.

Katniss stared at him apprehensively, at a loss for what he might say. Peeta, in turn, looked nervous but determined, and gathered himself to speak.

"Thanks for stepping in there," he said with a gentle smile.

She shrugged off his gratitude. It had been the right thing to do. She of all people couldn't ignore a situation like that.

"It wasn't just a service you paid them," Peeta continued, "you helped _me_ out too. And during the Harvest Festival as well," he added hastily.

Katniss took a breath. Maybe she could recoup lost ground.

"Who- who would I be if I didn't return a favor when I could?"

Peeta watched her attentively. Maybe he was wondering which favor she was referring to - the bread or the cupcake. Even she wasn't sure. Both, she supposed.

"Well, I'm glad you did," he said. There was a beat of silence.

"Do you often barter bread for folk ballads?" she asked, desperate not to be the one to let the conversation flounder, and incredulous at his seemingly endless generosity.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Why, considering a new trading approach?"

Katniss rolled her eyes. He was just teasing, there was no way he'd know-

"Because for a song from you, I'd trade _anything_."

She regarded him closely at this, her cheeks heating as she realized perhaps he _wasn't_ teasing. Peeta looked entirely serious, his gaze intent and intense.

"My father misses your squirrels," he added at her silence. "I hope I didn't do anything to make you- Well, I hope there isn't any reason you'd feel uncomfortable trading with my family."

"You mean besides the obvious," she couldn't resist blurting out, raising her eyebrows in question and indicating the spot at the door his mother had recently vacated.

Peeta laughed genuinely at her sarcasm. "Yes, besides that. I just…I hope _I_ haven't done anything to upset you," he finished awkwardly.

She shook her head in denial, though they both knew she'd been steering clear of the bakery for months. But perhaps no longer.

"Then that's all the more reason to trade with us," Peeta said enthusiastically. "It's a prime opportunity to annoy her."

Katniss found herself grinning, truly and fully. She'd been so worried about talking to him, and was still nervous, but he was just so good-natured, so generous about overlooking her unkind reaction to the cupcake, that she actually found herself enjoying the exchange.

"Well, when you put it like _that_ …" she trailed off, half-joking. She probably would start trading with the Mellarks again. But she wasn't going to push her luck any further today. Best to leave it at that, before she said or did something unintentionally rude.

At Peeta's resulting smile, Katniss ducked her head in parting and turned toward the square, walking briskly over the frosty ground toward the Seam, his broadly smiling form at her back.

* * *

 

She resumed trading at the bakery the next week. Mr Mellark offered more than the usual amount for her squirrels, trying to be competitive with the merchants who'd been buying her squirrels in the past months, but Katniss wouldn't hear of it. She assured him she'd be back, and that the usual amount of bread per squirrel was fine.

Things fell back into a familiar routine, with one exception. When she stood on the threshold of the bakery's back door, waiting for Mr. Mellark to fetch the agreed-upon allotment of bread, Katniss would peer into the warm kitchen, her eyes seeking out Peeta. The first time she did so, he smiled goofily and they exchanged an awkward wave in greeting. The next time, both smiled shyly in acknowledgement of the other. Soon, it was rare for Peeta to be out of the kitchen when she stopped by. Katniss couldn't help but anticipate her trades with the baker. It was pleasant to see the way his son's smile lit the four corners of the room, and she had to tug down the corners of her lips each time suppress a ridiculous answering grin.

But one day in February, it was Peeta who answered the door, not his father. He looked harried, not like his usual self, and the smile he had for her was distracted.

"Hello Katniss," he sighed.

"Hi," she greeted. "Where's your father?"

Peeta leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "He's ill. Couldn't get out of bed this morning. Mom won't let him see anyone about it because she's worried no one will want to buy bread from a sick baker," he admitted.

"Send him to my mother," Katniss said. It seemed obvious. "She can be discreet about it."

Peeta's eyes shifted to the side. "Ah, I'm afraid that wouldn't go over too well. My mother…she's not particularly fond of your mother for…some things that happened in the past," he hedged.

"Don't worry, he'll probably be better in a few days' time," Peeta assured her, though it looked like he could use some convincing of that fact. "What have you got for us today?"

But in a few days, Mr. Mellark was no better.

"He's worse," Peeta whispered to her as he tucked several steaming bread rolls into her bag. "She says he's just exaggerating, milking it for all it's worth, but I'm sure that's not the case. Dad adores being in the bakery."

He raised his eyes to hers, and Katniss was dismayed to see dark smudges had formed beneath them. Besides the weariness and displeasure with his mother, she could see fear lurking in Peeta's expression. Until surprise flashed across his features, momentarily replacing the worry, and Katniss realized that in her concern she had reached out and gently taken hold of his wrist.

Not knowing exactly where to go from there, she gave a quick, comforting squeeze and dropped her hand to her side.

"Thank you," he whispered, as she turned to leave.

His face was drawn with exhaustion and anxiety the next time she saw him. The second eldest son, who'd apprenticed outside the bakery, was there to help and Peeta had a moment to stop and trade.

He caught at her hand as she stooped to tie up her bag.

"He could barely sit up today. Please Katniss, if I told you his symptoms, could you ask your mother what we might buy discreetly at the apothecary?

"Of course," she assured.

She did better than that. The moment she was home, she pulled Prim into the kitchen, and the two got to work. Katniss made a hearty stew, full of nourishing roots and tubers, and plentiful with chunks of squirrel meat. Prim began preparing some medicine based on the description of the ailment, all while directing her older sister which herbs to add to the soup to alleviate the baker's symptoms.

As Katniss poured the soup into the tin thermos she used on longer winter treks outside the fence, she realized that she was going out of her way to extend charity to the Mellarks. To think: a merchant receiving a hand-out from a family in the Seam! It was such a reversal of the usual state of things, she could scarcely believe it. But the remembrance of the strain and agonized worry in Peeta's face guided her actions, and she twisted the cap on the thermos with a brisk finality. Katniss was adamant about following through with her actions. Mr. Mellark was a good person and a reliable client. And Peeta, he was…a friend, of sorts. Or a very pleasant acquaintance. She wasn't sure. But he needed her help.

Perhaps, Katniss thought to herself, since they were familiar in a friendly sort of way, and now they had each required the other's help at one time, they could be even and she could stop tallying their every interaction in terms of debts owed and payments made.

She hurried back to the bakery shortly after. Snow was falling softly now, and Katniss nearly slipped several times in her haste. The middle son was stepping out the front door and into the twilight when she arrived. He waved to his eldest brother, who was sweeping the front of the shop, before turning up his coat collar and setting off into the night.

Turning into the darkened alley at the side of the structure, Katniss went around to the rear of the building. Peeta was visible through the window, tidying up the kitchen with tired movements. She paused, poised to knock, remembering how difficult it was to accept handouts. How the gratitude could morph into rankling guilt and shame. She wanted to spare him that.

Though she doubted Peeta would let something like this alter their little tradition of greeting one another when she traded with his father, she wasn't willing to risk it. If she didn't present it to him in person, he didn't have to acknowledge the gesture outright. Setting the hot thermos and packet of medicine on the doorstep, Katniss knocked sharply before darting away back down the alley and through the district square, the night an accomplice as it gathered to hide her retreat.

The dusting of snow that night was merely the beginning of a long winter storm that settled in the next day. The heavy snowfall prevented any hunting or trading for several days.

When Katniss returned to the Mellarks' later that week, fresh game in tow, it was with the expectation that things would be the same as ever.

She had barely rapped once on the door before it flew open, a beaming Peeta on the other side of the threshold. She found herself pulled into a set of strong arms, enveloped in a warm, floury embrace before even a word was exchanged.

Katniss couldn't find her breath. It had gotten lost somewhere between the sturdy planes of his chest and crooks of his arms as he hugged her tightly. His hand rested at the small of her back, holding her to him effortlessly.

She reveled. It felt like pure sunlight was pouring through her in the middle of the winter, and she soaked every bit of it in, breathing him and the scents of the bakery into her lungs as deeply as possible. She hadn't felt anything so secure and reassuring since she was a child.

They broke apart a moment later, Katniss almost reluctant to let go. "He's so much better, Katniss! He's manning the front with Ander because he's still weak, but he's getting stronger every day. You're brilliant!" he said with glowing admiration.

Katniss stammered as she disclaimed all responsibility and credited Prim's efforts.

"You're _both_ brilliant," he insisted. "Hold on a second."

He went back into the kitchen and removed a flat tray from the enormous oven, then started plucking off key rolls, putting them into one of the bakery's paper bags. Peeta wrapped it up and returned to her.

"This is for you and your family - your _amazing_ family," he said fervently, pressing the warm bundle into her arms with a emphatic squeeze to her hand.

Since she'd resolved to look at their exchanges in a new light, one in which they were equals with nothing owed, Katniss recognized the gift as the thanks it was, and not an obligatory attempt at repayment. She should have known Peeta would be as generous a recipient as he was a giver.

Tucking the parcel into her game bag, she stepped down from the stoop on stilted legs. Her limbs didn't seem to be working quite in tandem; she was still reeling from the surprise of his greeting. Katniss gave him a parting wave, and he grinned happily in farewell.

She could smell the oil and cheese and warm bread all the way home, where Katniss realized she had completely forgotten to trade the squirrels still weighing down her bag.

Once there, she sank her teeth into the most heavenly baked good she'd ever experienced. Thank you's were nice, she decided, especially when they came in the form of cheese buns. But nicer still was the tingling feeling still thrumming through all the places she and Peeta had touched.

* * *

 

As winter waned and the days lengthened, Katniss stayed out hunting with Gale longer. In early March, it became apparent that he had more on his mind than snares and foraging.

"Almost the time of year when animals pair up," Gale mused, as they crouched by some underbrush. She nodded in affirmation, not taking her eyes off the tracks their quarry left behind in the light snow. A few moments passed before he spoke again. "All of 'em settle down, start making families. Even the wildest animals," he added.

She paused and turned to look at him. While the conversations they had in the forest were some of the most meaningful, certainly the most uninhibited, of her life, they didn't waste time bandying words while in the midst of tracking. It would make for very poor hauls. The less noise made, the better the pickings. So Katniss knew there must be something on Gale's mind, something he was itching to discuss, considering he hadn't waited for their return trip through the woods.

Expecting him to elaborate, Katniss waited. When nothing further seemed to be forthcoming, she gave a soft, "mm-hmm," and pressed on, taking pleasure in the silence that accompanied her movements as the soles of her boots sank softly into the slowly-thawing earth.

A few moments later, she heard Gale's intake of breath as he prepared to speak again. Katniss pursed her lips. Apparently he wasn't through belaboring the time of year. They'd been closing in on the fowl, but it would be miraculous if there were any left in the area soon.

"People aren't all that different, you know. Every spring, there's a whole bunch of toastings."

This was true, but Katniss had no desire to pursue the subject. Since the day of Prim's first Reaping, Gale had hinted from time to time that he wanted a family someday. As his siblings grew older and less reliant on him, the topic had come up with greater frequency. Eventually, Katniss realized that Gale anticipated _her_ being part of that scenario.

He hadn't explicitly stated it, but the talk of them running away together had shifted to how well they communicated and maneuvered when hunting, how they were a team in the forest, and how seamlessly that would translate to domestic capability. Katniss wasn't so sure.

Yes, in the woods surrounding District Twelve, they were one, seamless unit. They formed two halves of the same whole. Katniss was fiercely protective of what they had in the forest. It was a sacred place for them, and they belonged here: side by side beneath the trees, two hunters against the odds.

But she desired nothing beyond that with him. The closer they got to the district at the end of each hunting day, the more Katniss drew away from him. Not in a major, noticeable way. Gale was still her closest friend. But in the way he wanted them united, she wished to remain separate.

Plus, she'd told him her feelings on having children. Knowing Gale, he'd be as unwilling to change his mind as she was, and he shouldn't have to. But he was getting restless, and probably thought he could bring her around to his way of thinking. He didn't know her as well as he thought, sometimes.

"Posy's been talking about Bristel and Thom's toasting nonstop. Leevy'll probably be looking to settle down too. Pretty soon everyone our age will be paired up." Katniss remained quiet. She didn't want to go down this road. Her silence should speak volumes, but he was stubborn enough to refuse to take the hint. It made her feel terrible, Katniss loved Gale in her own way, but she couldn't give him this. It wasn't in her.

She saw the first wild turkey straggling behind the rest of the flock, and took aim. Their peers _would_ all be pairing up soon. Had been already, she corrected, remembering Delly's wedding last summer. Katniss knew Gale hadn't been counting their former merchant classmates in those ranks, but she did.

Even amongst the small community of Seam girls Gale spoke of, Katniss tended to keep to herself. She felt a certain camaraderie with them, but she found it difficult to offer intimacy and closeness to anyone, save Prim. Still, she was aware of Thom and Bristel's impending nuptials. Also that Leevy hoped to catch Gale's eye. She tried to picture Gale toasted and settled into a little miner's shack with Leevy. It didn't seem possible, not here in their forest world, so she dismissed it. Either way, she had to put a firm end to this line of discussion. She couldn't be thinking about future matches in Twelve, not when she had game to hunt.

"How nice for them," Katniss said curtly. She drew the bowstring taut and let the arrow fly. Gale shook his head, whether in deference to her unfailing accuracy or in exasperated frustration of her dismissal, she wasn't sure. Shouldering her bow, Katnss stepped forward to collect the kill, happy to leave the conversation behind. She'd avoided a painful, potentially disastrous confrontation for another day. Now she could go back to focusing on feeding her family.

* * *

 

But she started thinking about the future nonetheless. Katniss had always thought of the years ahead as a single, static struggle to survive. Now she had to admit there were inevitable changes ahead. Whether she'd avoided thinking about them intentionally or not, they were approaching. Gale would eventually give up on her and marry. Prim would undoubtedly fall in love, toast her lucky beau, and maybe start a family.

Katniss felt she'd suffer a considerable loss of purpose once Prim moved on and started a life for herself. There would always be little ways to look after her sister, but the endless, exhausting challenge of supporting her family would suddenly be considerably lightened. It would just be Katniss and her mother for the most part.

The days ahead were looking increasingly dull and gray. She'd stay as close to Prim as possible, no matter what, but she couldn't count on her little duck always being around to brighten her days. Katniss would have to find her own source of brightness at some point.

It didn't help that the morning was as pallid and dreary as her imaginings, with cold intermittent rain chilling her to the bone. Though it was exactly a week since Gale had pointed out the change of season, winter still reigned. Katniss could feel spring approaching though, smell and taste it in the air, despite the drab surroundings. She wouldn't be surprised to see the bravest, most hopeful plants beginning to break through the snow in the meadow.

In this case, the promise of change was welcome. Out of any time of the year, the last, lingering days of winter were her least favorite. It called to mind angry screaming, worried eyes watching her, and damp, warm bread resting on the wet ground.

She thought of the bakery, a warm golden beacon on a day like this, and of its occupants. She liked the new, tentative rapport she had with Peeta. Shy smiles exchanged through the doorway as she traded with his father. But how long would that last? Peeta was her age, surely he'd be making changes like the rest of their peers. How long before her presence at the door became commonplace, and the novelty of their little greeting wore off? Surely his notice of her would dwindle away to nothing once he had a wife and life of his own to occupy him. They'd never spoken before this year, and there was no reason to assume they would in the future. Katniss didn't like that. She didn't want to lose her connection with the boy with the bread.

Suddenly, Katniss wanted to do something for him. Anything. Just so she could see him light up and know _she'd_ lit the spark of his happiness. She was headed out to the meadow anyway on her way to the woods, but now she was running. Katniss wasn't sure where this sudden impetus had come from, but Peeta seemed to have a way of drawing unexpected responses from her.

Once there, she didn't head toward the fence like usual. She dashed about through the meadow, brushing the thin covering of snow aside each time she spied the stalks she sought - because she'd been right, the most intrepid plants of the season were here already, and though they'd barely opened for the morning, their sunny yellow color added a splash of brightness to the landscape.

Katniss didn't stop until she had a respectable bunch of dandelions. Her cuffs were wet and fingers half-frozen, but with her free hand she reached up to unwind the strip of rawhide binding her braid. It was just long enough to securely knot around the bundle of weeds.

She still needed to hunt today, and since it was Sunday, Gale would be joining her. He wouldn't wait forever, though, and she didn't want to cut in on his time in the forest. Or have him start without her. And since Katniss didn't wish to explain the impulse that had derailed her from her path, she hurried back out of the meadow and towards town. If she hurried, she could be back in a decent amount of time.

As she approached the Mellarks' back door, Katniss realized she didn't know exactly how to go about this. He didn't need to know it was from her, in fact, it would probably be less awkward if he never knew. This was just about pleasing him for a moment, mad as it sounded in her head. She had no idea when his birthday was, but she couldn't help but feel that this was her secret answer to his cupcake.

Luckily for her, she'd caught them just as they cleaned up a hasty breakfast. She could see them dumping eggshells and crusts into a bucket through the window. They always left at least one kitchen window open, and Katniss could hear Mrs. Mellark off to the side, banging hardened rolls on the kitchen table before deeming them salvageable for the family or fit for the pigs. Once the pail was filled with food remnants, she jerked her head toward the backyard, and Peeta rose from the table and began putting on his jacket.

This was her chance. Katniss scurried to the door, unceremoniously dropped the bundle of dandelions upon the threshold, and retreated back around the side of the building, to where she'd watched the young Seam girl serenade Peeta. Katniss knew he wouldn't have a clue who'd left them, certainly wouldn't connect dandelions to that day in the rain, though the two were forever entwined in her mind, but she still wanted to see his expression. He'd probably assume it was a gift from an admirer, or, given its humble nature, a thank you present from the two little beggar children. She'd be the last person he'd expect to give him flowers. She wasn't known for her whimsical nature.

But he knew.

As the light spilled into the backyard from the open kitchen door, Peeta just stood there, contemplating the flowers. Rain droplets quietly splashed into his curls and onto the tiny yellow petals, but he barely moved. He only raised his head, looking under the apple tree by the pig pen as if expecting to see someone there.

He gently picked up the sodden bundle, and his eyes swept the area searchingly.

"Katniss?" he called. His voice was tentative as a whisper, but the puzzlement in his tone made the sound carry.

She huddled further back from his sight, pressing into the side of the bakery. Somehow, he'd noticed her that day, the day she couldn't thank him. Somehow, he'd been there with her, sharing her moment of discovery with the dandelion and witnessing the birth of hope in her eyes, and she'd never even known it. It was the only explanation she could think of.

She'd only wanted him to smile. Provide some momentary amusement to a kind person, one who went all too unappreciated. Instead, Peeta was standing expectantly in the rain, awaiting some sort of response, and she was completely flabbergasted, trying to become one with the wooden slats on the side of his house.

After an interminable minute where both parties stood waiting and listening for sounds from the other, Peeta carefully tucked the wet flowers into his jacket and walked out to the pig pen.

She hadn't brought a smile to his face. Not even remotely. Instead, Katniss felt like she had exposed a part of him unfairly, uncovered something so much deeper in him than she ever could have guessed.

Shaken, she detached herself from the building and somehow made it back to the meadow in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! And let me know what you think! I'm GhtlovesThg on tumblr if anyone wants to chat! :D


	3. Jamb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have waited long enough for the this chapter, so I won't ramble here. Thank you to The RPGenius for editing this monstrous thing in record time.
> 
> I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy

She could feel Gale watching her again.

It was later that morning, and Katniss was huddled over, holding a snare in place while he rewound the trip wire. The rain had picked up, but neither of them were willing to forsake a Sunday's hunt. Not when the animals were only now venturing out of their winter refuges as the weather got warmer. Unfortunately, they hadn't been as successful at bagging bigger game as she would have hoped.

Katniss blamed the rain, both for her game bag, which held nothing but squirrels, and for Gale's stares.

There hadn't been time to run home and get another strip of rawhide for her braid after leaving the dandelions, not if she'd wanted to meet Gale in time. So she'd tucked her hair into the collar of her coat, but the rain and her movement kept dislodging it, and the plait had unraveled numerous times without anything holding it in place.

Katniss had noticed she was drawing Gale's attention about an hour into their excursion. When she turned to meet his persistent regard, his eyes darted elsewhere. But they always crept back, drawn to the way the loose hair framed her face in the rain.

She huffed out a breath in exasperation. This was getting ridiculous. She could've reset this snare in half the time, and Gale was the one who'd devised it. Katniss raised her head, meeting his gaze deliberately. "Do you have a piece of twine or something? I want to tie my hair back."

"I was going to ask, where's your regular one?" he inquired, voice rough. "You rarely keep it loose."

She never did. "I lost it."

"Well, I don't have anything but snare line. But that could work. Grab some from my bag," he offered.

Katniss cut a small piece of the thinnest wire he had. Winding it around the bottom of her hair worked fairly well. There wasn't enough drag between the metal and the wet strands of her hair, but it would have to do for now. She just hoped the rough edges of the wire didn't scratch the leather of her father's coat.

By the time they started back toward Twelve, they were soaked to the bone. Katniss couldn't wait to get out of her damp clothes and warm herself by the fire at home, and she knew Gale felt the same.

"Let's split the trades. You take the left of the square, I'll take the right, and I'll come find you when I'm done," he directed, anxious to be finished.

Katniss inwardly groaned, but agreed. With only squirrels to trade, one of them would definitely be going to the bakery. Just her luck that it was on the left side of the town square. She felt awkward and embarrassed after giving her botched gift of dandelions to Peeta that morning. But there was no way she was explaining that to Gale, so she'd just have to make do.

She avoided the bakery as long as she could, but an hour later, Katniss was steeling her nerves as she rapped on the back door. Like the time after his father was ill, Peeta pulled it open almost immediately, as if he'd been anticipating her knock.

Katniss wordlessly held up her game bag, hoping she could conduct the trade without any mention of that morning's failure. But Peeta had different ideas.

"Katniss, you're drenched! Come in and get warm for a moment," he said, before turning to head back inside. He'd given her no chance to decline and even left the door open, just assuming she'd follow.

Katniss scowled at the fact that it was working as she stepped over the threshold. Usually, she wouldn't pause during her rounds, but she was cold and damp, and now that she was in the warm kitchen, it _was_ awfully inviting.

Approaching his worktable, Katniss removed the last of the squirrels and waited for him to fetch the ensuing bread loaf.

"Oh, not near the work area," Peeta said, indicating the flour-covered tabletop. "C'mon over here, you can set it by the sink."

She did so, but Peeta seemed in no hurry to present her with her bread, instead handing her a cup of hot tea. Katniss hesitantly accepted it, brushing the waterlogged strands of her hair back behind her ears and away from her forehead. She should be going. Gale would be waiting for her to finish soon. But what was the harm in one cup of tea, now that she was here?

"What do you think of my dandelions?" Peeta asked conversationally, gesturing to the riot of yellow brightening the windowsill over the sink.

She hadn't even seen them. Yet they were right there, sitting in an old flour canister, bold and brave as a declaration. He watched her take them in with pleasantly attentive eyes.

Katniss reminded herself for the thousandth time that he only _suspected_. He couldn't possibly know without a doubt that she had been the one to leave them at his doorstep. Peeta was just fishing for clues and trying to get her to admit to it. Well, that wasn't happening.

"They're alright. For weeds."

"They're far more than just weeds to me," he countered.

"They taste fine. If you don't mind a little grit," she conceded, wincing as she imagined how inane her comments must sound. Peeta nodded thoughtfully, as if considering her statement.

"Well, I just wanted to share them with you. They certainly brightened my day, so I thought you might like to see them," he explained, looking from them to her. And there was her smile, the one she'd wanted from him that morning. It was shining out of him now, and the corners of her own lips tugged upward in answer, as if attached to his by some invisible pulley.

He'd enjoyed them. The knowledge filled her with as much warmth as the tea did. They stayed like that for a handful of seconds, and Katniss could feel something about the moment building.

"Of course, any day that involves your knock at the door is a bright one," Peeta said warmly.

"You…must really like squirrels," she answered, her face hiding further behind the mug she held with every word.

Peeta chuckled in amusement. "Not particularly," he assured her.

She tried to contain her blush, but it felt as though it was all the way to her ears. Katniss cast about for a change in topic.

"How's your father? I thought he'd be the one at the door."

"Oh, he's fine, just working out front. He agreed that I could handle the trades from now on." Peeta looked almost giddy at the pronouncement. "Taking on more responsibility in the family business and all," he said, his mouth curving still further.

"Right. Congratulations." She supposed her concerns from the morning were unfounded. There would be plenty of opportunity to see and talk to Peeta in the future.

"Well, let me get you your bread," he said, turning and walking to the racks by the oven. Katniss looked back at the dandelions, and noticed the leather strip she'd tied around them sitting by the sink.

Checking that he was still occupied, she darted her hand out and grabbed it. Once Peeta returned and noticed the damp state of her game bag, he insisted on wrapping the loaf in wax paper out front.

She smiled in appreciation, and waited until he was gone before yanking the snare line out of her hair and snugly tightening the rawhide around the end of her plait once more. Thank goodness. She'd been cringing all day, imagining the rough end of the wire destroying the back of her father's coat. Katniss cradled the mug of tea in her palms again as if she'd never moved. Soon, Peeta was back, presenting her with a carefully wrapped parcel.

"All set."

"Thank you," she said, stowing the package in her bag.

"And take this," he said, plucking a single yellow bloom from the bunch on the sill before holding it out to her. "A little cheer to brighten an otherwise dreary day."

Katniss slowly reached out and accepted the flower from him, allowing her fingers to brush his. A thrill shot up through her fingertips at the contact, and she smiled at him shyly, feeling silly but pleased to be standing in his kitchen with tea in one hand, a scrap of spring in the other.

"You should always have a dandelion with you Katniss," Peeta said softly. "They make you light up."

Heat blossomed in her chest, and she wondered if this was the closest they'd ever come to acknowledging their past aloud. A heavy knock at the door jolted Katniss from her thoughts.

Peeta went to open it, and Katniss found herself leveled with a questioning, speculative look from a very impatient Gale.

"Heard your name through the window. I've been waiting for you to finish your trades," he said bluntly, looking past Peeta to where she stood, guiltily holding her steaming mug while he dripped on the stoop.

Katniss felt her face go beet red and glanced wildly at Peeta. He was looking back at her, happiness still evident on his face from her acceptance of his floral offering. How had Gale overheard?

"Can I offer you some hot tea, Gale?" Peeta inquired. "You've both been out in the cold rain for some time."

"No." Gale managed to extinguish the amicable atmosphere in the room with one word. Katniss knew he'd never consider taking refreshment from a merchant. He was likely shocked to find her doing so. She saw him eyeing the dandelion she held with suspicion.

"Alright," Peeta managed, maintaining a polite demeanor. Katniss turned abruptly and handed Peeta her cup, fumbling it into his hands.

"Thank you," she mumbled awkwardly, bending to collect her game bag and discreetly tucking the dandelion in her pocket as she did. Katniss hastened to the door.

"Goodbye," Peeta called, as she hurried over the threshold.

"What was that all about?" Gale asked as soon as they'd reached the road to the Seam.

"What?" Katniss asked defensively.

"Taking tea with the baker's kid. I'm surprised he wasn't serving scones." Gale laughed at the idea and nudged her in enjoyment of his joke.

Katniss fought to keep the grimace off her face. She wasn't amused.

"I mean, it takes at least forty minutes of prodding before you'll even take a swig of mint tea from my canteen on a cold day," he explained. "And there you are, clinking cups with a merchant."

"Well, maybe that's because your mint tea is awful," she mock-griped, hoping to distract him.

He snorted. "Yeah, next time I'll avoid getting my mint leaves from that forager with the braid," he teased. And emboldened after witnessing her familiarity with Peeta, Gale reached over to tug the end of her plaited hair. "She's awful. Clearly has shoddy product," he added, affecting a snooty Capitol accent.

Katniss chuckled, but her stomach dropped when she saw Gale's eyes narrow. He'd just realized the rawhide strip was back in her braid.

"What the…? Seriously, what is _with_ you? Did you braid each other's hair at your little tea party?" he asked incredulously.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped thinly, walking faster past the shacks lining the Seam streets.

"I found it in my pocket," Katniss lied a moment later, but it was too late. Gale was in a foul mood and barely listening. Luckily, they'd reached her house.

"I'll see you next week," she offered in a conciliatory tone, before ascending the crooked steps to her door.

* * *

 

Katniss woke, blinking slowly against the dawn's light, as gray as her eyes. Once she'd gotten her bearings, she realized the significance of the day ahead. It was May eighth, and she was twenty years old.

As she slipped out of her nightwear and into her hunting outfit, she considered the past year. It had been a bitter struggle, as always. Most importantly though, Prim had stayed out of the Games another year. Now she had to get through the Reaping next month.

The past year had yielded some unexpected surprises along the way though. Her accord with Peeta, for one thing. Katniss never could have predicted the fragile friendship that had developed between them. It was still in the fledging stage, but she knew finding anyone as well-meaning and good natured as Peeta in District Twelve was a rarity, and their rapport warranted protection.

It was hard to believe that twelve months had passed since she'd stood in contemplation of that pink cupcake on her doorstep. She glanced at the entryway of kitchen with a rueful little smile, wishing again she hadn't discouraged him so thoroughly.

There would be no sweet surprises at her door this year, and in hindsight, she thought she'd miss it a little. It had been nice to be noticed, made to feel special, and fussed over. More than nice. It was a wholly new experience for her.

Katniss shook her head and focused on lacing her boots. This day was like any other, had _always_ been like any other, last year included. It was high time she set out for the fence.

She stopped in the doorway as her heart gave a little leap. There was something encased in wax paper on her doorstep.

Kneeling down, Katniss opened it right away. Inside was a single, iced cookie with a cheerful dandelion painted expertly on the top in frosting.

There was no question as to the identity of the sender, and with the past year behind her, Katniss felt only elated pleasure to receive the small present from Peeta. Her face split into a grin, and she happily tucked the cookie in her pocket for later. Continuing on with a spring in her step, she started devising little ways to surprise him as well.

As it turned out, the dandelions, both flowers and cookie, were just the beginning.

Over the following several months, Katniss and Peeta left numerous items designed to delight the other on the doorsteps of their respective houses. All were trivial, inconsequential little gifts, most just small bakery items and spoils of the forest, but the anticipation of finding something unexpected on the threshold, coupled with the thoughtfulness behind each present, quickly established their playful ritual as something sacred and precious to Katniss.

Peeta allowed their secret exchanges to stay separate from their trading interactions, an unspoken arrangement which suited Katniss completely. When bartering, he was simply his genial, friendly self, and Katniss found herself lingering to chat longer and longer as time went on.

He'd lean on the jamb, smelling of flour and warm bread, and she'd find herself swaying imperceptibly closer to him as he regaled her with amusing anecdotes about his brothers, or made her laugh over the colorful characters that comprised the bakery's merchant clientele.

Peeta soon discovered the quickest way to get Katniss to open up was to ask about Prim, and soon Katniss was giving him regular updates on how well Prim was doing in school, how Lady was the luckiest goat in Panem, and what nefarious hijinks Buttercup was getting away with.

During these fleeting exchanges, Katniss cast about for inspiration on what to leave at Peeta's doorstep in the future. He seemed to know a great deal more about her than she did him, but Katniss refused to let that impede her. After seeing him bend to re-tie his boots countless times while they traded, she had her answer. His shoes looked to be laced with the strings usually found on the tops of flour and oat bags, cinching them closed. The ones threaded through his boots were in such frayed tatters that even Peeta's habitual double knots had no effect — they were coming undone every time she saw him.

Katniss strongly suspected that Mrs. Mellark kept all his wages or doled them out like a miser. Peeta's needs clearly weren't something the woman considered a pressing concern. The thought made her realize how lucky she was to manage her own finances, paltry as they were, instead of relying on another's favor when something was needed.

Once she'd bartered for a serviceable, gently-used pair of bootlaces at the Hob, Katniss sneaked them onto his doorstep. But she was dismayed to see his boots still untied, even _with_ the new laces, the next time she traded at the bakery. That was, until he made a big production of stooping down one final time to knot them, peeking up at her midway with bright eyes and a barely contained smile. Katniss had to bite her lip to keep from crowing.

They talked about anything and everything. She teased him about the way he always smelled of cinnamon. When he played along and wondered how to go about changing that, Katniss forbade him from doing so, claiming she wouldn't be able to recognize him otherwise. She found a cinnamon roll on her doorstep the next week.

They fretted together over whether the two beggar-children were alright, and Katniss asked if he'd gotten an encore of "The Valley Song" since last winter. He hadn't, but revealed the tune had always been a favorite after he heard it sung in school and saw the mockingjays outside fall silent once the singer began.

Katniss was stunned. She'd only seen that happen when her father sang, and told Peeta as much. He seemed secretly amused by this, which annoyed her at first, because it looked like he didn't believe her. Once Peeta finished chuckling, he admitted he'd already known that.

But things were different on Sundays, when she hunted with Gale. He made sure to accompany her to the bakery door every time, and his impatience during the trade put a damper on things. As a result, she was very distant and subdued with Peeta those days. He remained pleasant as ever, to both her and Gale, but his smiles were for her alone.

The only times Katniss couldn't speak with him were the days he spent piping and frosting cakes in the shop's front window. After the interest generated by his work on Delly's cake last year, Mrs. Mellark had him do all his decorating where he was highly visible. And this year, much to Katniss' chagrin, there were a rash of toastings, both in the merchant class, where many of the couples' families were wealthy enough to commission a celebratory cake for the toasting, and in the Seam, where just a loaf of real bakery bread was an extravagance.

An increase in toastings meant increased pressure from Gale about the future. As May flowered into June, and June melted into July, he got increasingly persistent. But he never came out and stated his intentions, so Katniss took to wriggling out of awkward conversations, avoiding the subject at all costs. Their Sundays in the forest began to feel different, more like she was the prey, and the forest floor was filled with his snares, waiting to catch at her and trip her up, entrapping her.

Nonetheless, she continued to collect little treasures for Peeta as they presented themselves, even while hunting with Gale. One Sunday, Katniss saw a mockingjay feather caught in the branches of a tree. She decided it would make the perfect gift for Peeta, given their recent discussion regarding the songbirds and her father, so she climbed up to get it.

Completely confused by her actions, Gale called her down as she strained toward the branch with the feather. Once it was in her possession and her feet were back on the ground, he naturally asked what she'd been thinking; they had all the feathers they needed for fletchings from wild turkeys. But Katniss wouldn't explain her behavior.

After leaving the black and white barred feather on Peeta's doorstep, Katniss received a sketch of the bird itself, drawn on wax paper with the heavy graphite pencil used to mark orders in the bakery. She'd had no idea his work at the bakery bespoke artistic talent, something almost completely unheard of in District Twelve. Katniss found herself dearly wanting to help him explore his abilities, in any way she could. From then on, she had a wide choice of items to leave for Peeta. There was wood and animal hair for paint brushes, and roots, berries, and clays for paint pigments.

She took to carrying jars in her game bag, wrapped in rags to keep them from clinking against each other as she walked and scaring the game. Gale would watch in silent consternation as she scooped clay from the bottom of creeks or crushed berries into deep-hued pigments. He'd given up asking about the purpose of the crude paints she created. Katniss was increasingly vague about the recipient, and he knew she wasn't trading or selling them, at least not each Sunday. She should have expected it would spur his suit.

For Gale, everything reached a boiling point one Sunday late in August.

Since she'd begun receiving little surprises at her door regularly, Katniss' first action every morning was to leave bed and check for something from Peeta. Even before she'd exchanged her nightgown for hunting clothes or plaited her hair, Katniss would stand at the door barefoot and peek out into the gray of dawn in excited anticipation. Their little ritual had quickly become the highlight of each week.

For most of August, Twelve had suffered through a heat wave, with even the nights being blisteringly hot. Katniss hadn't been able sleep until just before dawn that Saturday, and as a result, she accidentally slept past the time she'd normally meet Gale. Typically, if one of them didn't show on Sunday, the other would hunt alone, then give the other half the haul or a cut of the trade money later in the day. But Gale had been especially overbearing lately, and he came to check on her.

When she bounded out the door, game bag dangling from the crook of her elbow and hair haphazardly braided, she came to an abrupt halt. Gale was standing before the door, staring at a sheet of paper with a look of puzzlement.

"What _is_ this?"

He was holding the next installment of Peeta's comic about Lady. To her and Prim's delight, Peeta was illustrating a nonsensical series of drawings centered around Prim's goat, and the young, love-struck shoat who pined for her. They were sweet and funny pieces. Lady lived up to her name, proper and delicate in the comics, and always drawn wearing the pink ribbon Katniss had described to him one afternoon. The young pig, undoubtedly inspired by the ones his family kept, was hopelessly clumsy, blundering in all his efforts to win her affections and shocking her outrageously with endless gaffes. Katniss especially liked that Buttercup, the bane of her existence, played the part of the villain. Prim was fully invested in Peeta's tale, and had taken to pasting each new segment carefully into the back of an old school notebook.

Katniss took a deep breath. There was no reason _not_ to tell him, besides the certainty she felt that Gale wouldn't be accepting of her friendship with a merchant. She doubted he'd be willing to acknowledge Peeta's ability to captivate with words, pictures, and storytelling. He'd be unable to see how diverting, and happy, and carefree it was. Gale wouldn't understand how necessary she found it, or how much she appreciated that Peeta had extended the gift to Prim as well. Katniss loved that.

"It's from Peeta. Sometimes we...trade things," she ended lamely. Gale raised an eyebrow.

"Katniss, what are you playing at? This," he said, holding up the paper, "is just merchant malarkey, what could this possibly be worth?"

She pursed her lips and felt herself getting increasingly annoyed. It was the one thing in her world that wasn't strictly about survival. It was for enjoyment, just because, and as such, it was a luxury. It was something precious to her and it was none of Gale's business. He was acting like she was woefully inept and somehow being conned. Peeta wasn't like that, and she had been taking care of her family since she was eleven - she could handle her own affairs.

Katniss reached out and snatched it out of his hands, carefully pressing flat the crinkled sections where he'd gripped it. Prim would have her head if one of Peeta's comics went astray or got damaged.

"It's none of your concern, Gale," she insisted warningly, before turning back inside to leave the paper on the table.

"Is this what all the paints were for? So he could make you this nonsense?" Gale asked as soon as she'd returned.

Katniss pushed past him angrily, heading toward the meadow with purpose. "We're late," was her only response. He followed her after a moment with a frustrated sigh.

Mercifully, the tension between them rapidly eased. The heat was oppressive, so they decided to spend the day by her father's lake, fishing and gathering. She'd shown Gale the spot two years ago, right before her last Reaping. She'd gotten it into her head that someone needed to know of the lake's existence, in case she was sent to die, so her father's treasured discovery could continue on, in a sense. She knew it meant a lot to Gale that she had shown him, so Katniss suggested they return there in the hopes it would placate him somewhat.

And it did, for a while. They set the lines, and Katniss managed to shoot some waterfowl while Gale set a few simple snares in the tall grasses around the shoreline. The game here was less familiar with the presence of human predators and their traps, and the two quickly caught several rabbits. Katniss poked around in the dilapidated concrete shack while Gale started a fire by the lakeside to fry the first fish they'd caught. It was pleasant and relaxed, a wonderful change from the tense atmosphere that had hung between them lately. The sun was high and bright, and they sat on the bank and soaked it in, lazy and full of fish and berries.

They didn't need to talk, she thought, they were in perfect accord just like this. But after a few more moments, Gale sat up straighter, propping himself up on his elbows. Katniss cracked an eye open and watched him as he prepared to say something.

"This is what I mean Katniss. How good it is between us here. We could have this inside the fence, if only you'd let it happen."

Katniss looked out over the water, considering his words. She didn't agree. What they shared here was the feeling of freedom, the enjoyment of the forest's secrets and bounty, and the pleasure of relaxing with a full belly, breathing in air free from coal dust. They shared that, yes, but none of it could exist within Twelve. Everything they had here at the lake depended on existing outside the confines of Panem.

When they were behind the fence, it wasn't the same. The idyll was gone, and constant struggle against adversity took its place. She and Gale were experts in that area by now, and their responses were completely in sync: a grim, unflinching determination to survive any odds, families in tow.

But lately, she'd been starting to realize that the perspective she and Gale had on life in Twelve wasn't the entire picture. There could be more to daily existence than just surviving and thwarting the Capitol's restrictions. There could be enjoyment, and anticipation, surprise, and sometimes joy, even inside the fence. Sometimes the smallest things could be made special simply by stopping and observing them as such. Nonsense and imagination could actually take a person out of their surroundings, and beauty could be found or created with humble trappings. Such instances didn't occur easily or often, but they _could_ exist, with the right outlook. And she couldn't ignore who'd recently reminded her of that.

Katniss had sought for years to preserve that sort of world for Prim, to give her little presents on key occasions, to make her feel special, and to maintain a positive facade. But since the death of her father, any small sense of optimism had felt like a performance, as though she was misleading Prim about how things really were in Twelve. Now, having someone go out of their way to brighten _her_ days, Katniss' sense of hopefulness didn't feel quite so brittle.

When she tried to imagine sharing a life with Gale, she just…couldn't. She loved Gale, but not the way he wanted her to. Katniss knew it seemed like they'd make a decent pair for practical reasons, but she didn't want to marry anyone, let alone someone whose outlook was a mirror image of hers. There were other ways of seeing the world, ones that seemed beautiful for the ways in which they were different from her own, and she didn't want to lose sight of that. If anything, Gale was more stubbornly narrow-sighted in this matter than even she was. She refused to give up the little glimpse of the sun she'd found elsewhere.

Thinking his point made, Gale let the matter rest, getting up to check the snares one final time before they left. While Katniss gathered the fishing lines, she noticed her namesake blooming to her left. She smiled, thinking of her father. On a whim, Katniss decided to pick one of the blooms for Peeta, who'd only ever seen them in a book. She didn't want to get her feet wet right before walking all the way back to the fence, so she leaned over as far as she could from the bank, toward the flower of her choice. It was just out of reach.

She stretched further, to no avail, before Gale was suddenly at her side, pulling off his boots. "I'll get it for you Catnip," he said.

Katniss began to protest, but he was already rolling up his pant legs and wading into the marshy section of the lake.

"Was this the one you wanted?" he asked with a deferent smile.

"Well, yes, but…"

He presented the katniss blossom to her with a pleased flourish, and bent to gather his socks and hunting boots. She felt awful. He thought she'd wanted the flower for herself.

"But what?" He asked, looking up at her with a grin while he rolled down the cuffs of his trousers.

Katniss debated not telling him. Surely it was kinder to let him assume he'd done something nice for her, something touching and sweet. But it _wasn't_ , she admonished herself, because she was letting him think he was making headway towards a future with them together. She couldn't keep avoiding the issue, it wasn't fair to him, and he'd only get more persistent. Plus, he'd just have to start getting used to her friendship with Peeta. It wasn't going anywhere, if she could help it.

"It's not for me. It's for Peeta," she admitted, looking him straight in the eye. Gale looked from her to his damp feet. He had nothing to towel them off with, and they didn't have time to sit and wait for them to fully dry if they wanted to get back in time to trade their game. He'd be walking back to Twelve with damp feet, and maybe several blisters for his trouble. And that had been fine. For Katniss. But certainly not _Peeta_.

When he looked back up at her, his face was as stormy as his namesake.

"Katniss, this has to stop. I don't know what it is you think you're doing, but I can't just wait forever while you play childish games with the baker's kid! I've been patient, I've given you time, I've barely said _anything_ , but I'm in the mines every day, and if I want a family, I need to start one now! So just _tell_ me, what do I still need to do for you to be ready? We're some of the last untoasted people our age in the Seam, did you know that?" he cried in exasperation.

Katniss stepped abruptly back from him, stumbling a bit as her foot caught on a rock, but he reached out and took her hands.

"We make so much sense, and there's no point in waiting - it would be easier for both our families to pool our resources as soon as possible." Gale paused and took a bracing breath. "You have to know how I feel about you, Katniss," he added softly. "I've felt this way for years."

Katniss shook her head in denial. She'd dreaded this moment for some time, and now it was here. Why had she never bothered to figure out what to say?

"You shouldn't. I don't- I'm never having children, Gale. I told you."

Gale's face melted into a mask of disbelief. "You can't still think that," he protested.

She squared her shoulders against his skepticism. "I do."

He disregarded her proclamation, launching into a host of arguments to convince her otherwise. He isolated her objections and systematically provided counter arguments. She'd expected nothing less, Gale was a strategist at heart. But he wasn't convincing her. She disagreed with most of what he said, and he couldn't change that, no matter how expertly he crafted his arguments. He would just have to realize that, sooner or later.

"Gale," she interrupted gently. "I'm not marrying you."

His shoulders slumped in defeat, but the longer he turned over her words, the more frustration gathered in his expression.

"You're saying that you'd rather watch everyone else move on with their lives and leave you behind, completely alone, than be with me?"

Katniss tried to tamp down on her irritation with his refusal to accept her answer. She reminded herself that she was hurting him, extinguishing hopes he'd held for several years. But she didn't appreciate his attempt to play to her fears, either. It seemed calculated, not to mention desperate. So she would give him the blunt truth. She wouldn't dress it up to soften the blow, nor would she needlessly belabor the point.

"Yes. That's what I'm saying."

Gale looked at her as though he couldn't truly believe it, and she held her ground, letting the truth of the answer show in her eyes. Despite aching for the pain she'd caused him, Katniss stood firm. As Gale stood there, she could see his temper flaring, covering up the parts he'd exposed and she'd rejected. He turned angrily and snatched up his half of the supplies they'd used that day, along with his hunting bag. As he strode past her, he scoffed, "I just hope you don't have any ridiculous notions regarding your baker boy. He's merchant, through and through, and he's only toying with you. So good luck with that."

She glared at his retreating form until he reached the tree line and stormed off through the greenery toward District Twelve. With a growl, she stomped back to the lake and began gathering up the rest of the supplies, furious. Gale's comment was unnecessary and uncalled for. Her rejection of him was motivated entirely by her own wishes; Peeta had nothing to do with it. Katniss doubly resented Gale's implication that the only choices open to her involved seeking out one male or another. She could survive just fine without anyone.

Not to mention, she was perfectly capable of determining whether she was being 'toyed' with. As if Peeta was the sort of person to do that, merchant or not. She snorted at the thought as she jammed everything into her game bag. While stamping out the last embers of Gale's fire, she found herself wishing his hot temper was as easily extinguished.

* * *

 

Katniss stepped onto the uneven stoop, and knocked impatiently. As the door creaked open, she stretched her neck, peering over the head of the person who greeted her to peek into the dim interior of the house. She couldn't see anything. She gave up and looked at the person in front of her.

"Hi Katniss," the third Hawthorne boy said, with the awkward voice of a boy going through puberty.

"Hi Vick. I'm here to see Gale," she said determinedly.

"Oh, uh, he's at the Hob."

"You told me this morning he was too sick to go hunting."

"H-he was, but he, um, got better," Vick stammered nervously.

The Hawthornes were like family, and Katniss knew when Vick was lying. Gale had avoided her for three Sundays, pleading illness, yet none of the Hawthornes had come to her mother asking for medicine.

"I know he's in there Vick, and I'm going to see him," she insisted, taking a menacing step forward.

Gale couldn't avoid her and the forest forever, and she intended to tell him so. Despite their disagreement and her refusal of him, Gale was still her hunting partner, and her friend. Plus, she knew he needed the food. It was time for the stubborn, eldest Hawthorne boy to let bygones be bygones and come out hunting again. She missed him.

"He isn't here Katniss, I swear! He went out a coupla' hours ago."

She grimaced. "Well is he really at the Hob? Or did he just tell you to say that?"

Vick shrugged, eyes wide. "I dunno. That's where he said he was goin.'"

"Fine," she sighed. "Here's his cut of the trades. Be sure you give that to your mother right away. And if you see Gale before I do, tell him he can't keep ignoring his snare line. Or his hunting partner, for that matter."

Vick nodded, and closed the door as she walked away. It looked like she was going back to the Hob. Katniss had just been there trading, and she hadn't seen Gale. But perhaps he'd managed to steer clear of her while she was there. It wouldn't be hard, it was bustling this time of day, and one could easily be obscured in the rows and rows of vendors.

Since it used to be a coal storage facility, the Hob was located between the mines and the train station, and the alley leading up to it was visible from the train platform. On a Sunday, when trains were few and far between, Katniss never would have expected to hear someone calling her name from around the railroad tracks, but she did.

"Katniss!"

Her head darted to the left as she scanned the area. She didn't like to be seen entering the Hob by merchants, and it had sounded like Peeta's voice. Sure enough, Katniss soon caught sight of his blond hair, impossible to miss in all the gray, as he trundled down the platform steps and jogged over to her.

"Hi," he said upon reaching her.

"Um, hi," she answered. Katniss wondered how to explain her presence. The existence of the Hob was the Seam's worst-kept secret, but its exact location was likely unknown to most merchants, who had no cause to go there. As a regular at the Hob, was she supposed to keep its whereabouts secret from merchants?

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he asked with a smile, as if it was a treat to discover her in unexpected places. Katniss inwardly groaned. Of course it would be his first question.

"What are _you_ doing all the way out here?" she challenged.

"I just finished my deliveries, so I was checking the train platform to see if my missing package turned up. I finally convinced my dad to order malted grain to try in baking, but it's missing from our shipment," he explained.

Peeta went on to describe how malt could increase the performance of yeast and add a sweet note to certain baked goods in place of costly sugar. He was eager to experiment with it, but Mr. Mellark was very hesitant to test new recipes, and Mrs. Mellark was even less likely to approve an added expense without the guarantee of profit. But he'd worn them down, and he'd been anticipating this delivery for a month.

"And now it's missing," he sighed sadly. "I already checked the platform three times, after I noticed it wasn't with the rest of the supplies yesterday. I keep hoping someone will realize they took the wrong package and return it here."

In District Twelve? Katniss doubted it. There wasn't a soul alive in the town or the Seam who couldn't do with extra grain, except maybe the town drunk and sole Victor, Haymitch. He was loaded. In more ways than one, she thought to herself.

But she hated to see Peeta disappointed. This obviously meant a lot to him, if he was anxious to expound on yeast production to anyone who would listen. And to her surprise, she could help. It just depended on whether she was willing to reveal another aspect of her illegal activities to him.

Katniss thought about how animated he'd been when talking about his plans for the malt, how he'd blushed sheepishly after realizing the length and enthusiasm of his discourse. Even now, he kept glancing at her from the corners of his eyes to see if she was laughing at his passion for malted grain.

Of course she was going to help him.

"I know where you can get malt. Cheaply, too." she said, grabbing the cuff of his shirt to lead him toward the Hob.

As they walked past other derelict warehouses, the mine shaft entrances and the slag heap to their distant right, Katniss decided she'd just try to get Peeta in and out before she located Gale. It would be easiest if Gale didn't see her showing Peeta the Hob. That would _not_ go over well, and it would be even longer before she got Gale back into the forest. It was a large space and Sunday was its busiest day, with all the miners off for the day. Gale wouldn't be at the stall they were headed towards anyway.

Peeta seemed quite amazed by the Hob. This surprised Katniss a little, as she'd always imagined merchants turning their noses up at the thought of black market goods. His sensibilities clearly weren't offended, because before she could so much as direct him to the right area, he was off exploring, poring over the wares offered by every vendor. Her cheeks pinkened a little as she trailed behind, noting the looks of surprise, curiosity, and even downright suspicion that his presence garnered. His light hair and fair skin stood out like a sore thumb, and Katniss suddenly felt self conscious about bringing him here. Besides the Peacekeepers that everyone pretended _not_ to see patronizing the Hob, people who didn't look "Seam" were a definite rarity.

As Peeta swept from stand to stand, engaging with any vendors who were willing, her eyes nervously darted about, seeking Gale. But he was nowhere to be found. Several vendors eagerly tried to sell Peeta something, but most just eyed him with distrust. Still, there were few that didn't soften at least a little toward him after his eager greeting and winsome smile. Seeing he had a Seam chaperone shadowing him also seemed to be a placating factor.

After he'd explored a bit, Katniss decided it was time to move along. She drew up to his side, but he was so engrossed in a conversation with Stella, the Seam's purveyor of crude but durable cookware, that he seemed not to notice her. At this rate, it would be a wonder if they'd ever reach her intended destination. She touched his arm to alert him to her presence, and as soon as she'd laid her hand on his forearm, Katniss found she had his full attention. He turned partially, and Katniss realized how close they were. She took an awkward little step back, giving him room to fully face her. Before leading him away, she glanced back at Stella, who was watching them with interest.

Katniss brought Peeta to Ripper's stall, where there always seemed to be at least one customer. At the moment, it was the woman's most faithful patron, and probably the person most responsible for the survival of her and her clan. Haymitch was struggling to carry an armful of white liquor bottles away from the stand - far more than any one man should attempt, especially while swaying back and forth.

Katniss jumped out of his way as he staggered in her direction. Tributes from Twelve had done abominably in the Games under Haymitch's mentorship, even considering their humble origins. Everyone knew he departed for the Games drunk every year, and there was a lot of speculation he stayed that way throughout, to the misfortune of Twelve's unlucky tributes.

Some said Haymitch was wily, but his sobriety, or lack thereof, was often cited as a reason for the abysmal lack of sponsorship. Few people bet on the outliers, but there were still risk-takers in the Capitol willing to take a long shot on unlikely districts. Every Games, there were at least a couple of underdogs from the poorer districts who looked slightly promising and got a few tentative sponsors. But even when the tributes from Twelve had the barest glimmer of hope, there were no sponsors to be had.

When Katniss saw Haymitch, she'd always looked at the mentor with a mixture of feelings: sadness, pity, discomfort, annoyance, and embarrassment on his behalf. But as the years went by and the children reaped continued to be slaughtered, with no indication that he'd done much of anything to secure sponsors, even for the promising tributes, her feelings quickly shifted toward anger, resentment, and disgust.

She glared at him with a gimlet eye. Peeta moved to steady him, helping to secure several precariously balanced bottles.

"What're you lookin' at?" Haymitch snarled at her.

"Two more pine boxes in the making," she retorted.

Peeta gaped at her in shock. Even Haymitch seemed somewhat floored; no one talked to him like that, if at all.

"Well aren't you just a regular _sweetheart_ ," he sneered at Katniss, before turning to Peeta.

"She drivin' ya to drink, boy?" he asked, continuing even before Peeta could answer. "Yeah, I don't doubt it."

"Give 'im one on me, Ripper," he called over his shoulder, before turning back to face them. Seeing the look of defiant anger painted across Katniss' face, he amended, "better make that two: one for her spunk, and one for all that _charm_."

He looked at her appraisingly. "The little lambs sent to the Capitol can't all be like you, girlie. Maybe you shoulda been reaped. Now that, I could have worked with."

Katniss spluttered indignantly as the old victor shoved blithely past. She hesitated for a minute, debating whether to catch up with him and say more, but Peeta put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention. He was standing calmly at her side, and it helped her settle down and focus once more on their purpose.

"It's okay, Katniss. Come on,"

She nodded and they turned to Ripper.

"Try not to drive off my best customer, eh Katniss?" the hardy woman jabbed.

"Well, I'm bringing you a new customer. This is Peeta Mellark, and he needs malted grain for baking." Peeta reached over to shake Ripper's remaining hand.

"Malted grain, huh?" Ripper said, "Yeah, I've got some. Cray's got an arrangement with the folks who load the train in Nine, so I can get malt and specially make him beer, the greedy bastard. But I don't have it here, I do my distilling at home. What'll you give me for some?"

"Well, I don't have much money, but I'll give you what I do have-"

"You're a baker, ain't ya? Give me some bread, then."

Katniss smiled a little as Peeta and Ripper came to an agreement. He didn't need much, so he would bring her two loaves from the first batch of bread baked with the malt. He may not _look_ like he fit in, but Peeta took to the people of the Hob like a fish to water.

Haymitch had almost completely bought out her stock, so Ripper didn't mind locking up the rest of her wares in the heavy old cabinet she kept at her stand and going home to get some malted barley. Katniss and Peeta waited while she did.

Since Gale clearly wasn't around, Katniss didn't mind letting Peeta explore the Hob some more. As they moved along, Peeta turned to her. "What smells so good?"

Katniss sniffed the air. "Wild dog soup." His eyes widened in interest.

"Is it any good?" he asked.

She shrugged. It was as good as anything she made at home. Katniss didn't know what Peeta was used to eating, but it likely wasn't that much fancier, if they relied on her squirrel meat each week. "Sure, I guess."

"Do you like it?" he prompted. Katniss nodded.

"Will you have some with me then? I got a tip from my delivery to the mayor's house, and I can't thank you enough for bringing me to Ripper for the malt."

Katniss paused, waiting to feel discomfort or agitation at his offer to share a meal. It didn't come. Instead, it sounded…nice.

"I'd really like to try some, and it would be a great way to pass the time until Ripper gets back," Peeta said convincingly.

She looked back up at him with a tentative smile. "Okay."

Soon, they sat on crates outside the Hob, leaning up against the corrugated metal of the structure as they watched dusk settle in. Katniss and Peeta each had a bowl of stew balancing on one knee, and a small slice of bread on the other.

Peeta kept the conversation going, never seeming to run out of pleasantly upbeat things to talk about, and Katniss felt herself becoming more and more comfortable. She was enjoying herself.

She ate the bread and soup separately, to prolong the meal and give her stomach the illusion of there being more food. Peeta dipped his bread into the stew, chewing thoughtfully as he considered the way it paired with the bread.

"This is great. I've never had wild dog before."

She chuckled as she chased an unidentified vegetable around the bowl with her spoon. That was the third time Peeta had expressed delight with Greasy Sae's cooking. She wished the old woman was in the vicinity to hear it.

"Maybe I'll have to start bringing some to trade," Katniss teased, "Now that I know how much you like it, I can inflate the price."

"Oh, I'd pay," he assured, with exaggerated surety.

"The grain in this bread needs some work, though," he continued. "It's hard and not milled very well. What kind is it?"

Her spoon froze, and she looked at him for confirmation. There was only genuine curiosity in his face.

"It's tessera grain. You've never once had it, have you?" She should have known, he was merchant, after all. But still, it was hard to believe that he'd never so much as _tried_ it.

"Oh." Peeta swallowed and looked abashed. "I'm so sorry, Katniss. I…didn't mean anything by it."

Katniss turned back to her bowl, finishing off the broth as an uncomfortable silence settled heavily over them. He hadn't intended anything by it, she told herself. He was from a family of bakers, bread quality for him was what marksmanship was to her. But still, she felt embarrassed for Sae, herself, and everyone else in the Seam who ate or made bread from tessera grain. She'd felt so close with him just a moment ago, but now it felt as though a gaping chasm had yawned open, creating an unassailable distance between them.

Peeta hastened to explain himself further. "I didn't know, I'm sorry. I've-"

"You've never had it before, so you had no idea," she finished for him, with a sigh. He would just make it worse if he kept apologizing. It wasn't his fault the Capitol bartered with the Seam for children's lives.

"Sae can charge more for her stew if it comes with a piece of bread," she explained. "But she can't take out tesserae on her own, of course, and her granddaughter's still too young. That's the second cruelty about tesserae, you know, only people with children get the assistance, so you're more likely to survive as an adult if you pop out a bunch of kids to apply for extra grain and oil. Then the Capitol has more fodder for the Games, and more workers for the mines," Katniss said sadly. "Anyways, if someone wants money instead of the food, they can sell some of their grain to Greasy Sae. It's quite common when a parent has a gambling or drinking problem. They add their children's names to the reaping bowl so they can sell grain to Sae each month, and then they get the money to feed their habit."

She looked over at him. He was staring at the ground, troubled. This would undoubtedly be the last of him talking to her outside of trading, she thought bitterly. Who wanted to be reminded of how hopeless life was in Panem? As if he could forget. But she couldn't pretend it was otherwise.

Movement a little ways down the street captured her attention, and she wondered if it was Ripper heading their way. But soon she saw it was a young couple. They'd just left the alley that led to the slag heap, and they were leaning on each other heavily. Katniss instantly bristled as she recognized them, her spoon clattering into her empty bowl. It was Gale and Leevy. She was looking up into his eyes adoringly, and Gale wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they headed off in the direction of the Seam.

A bevy of feelings crashed down on Katniss all at once. Most of all, she was incensed that he'd lied to her about being sick, and to Vick about being at the Hob. She'd given his family half her game and earnings for the last three Sundays, and here he was, fooling around at the slag heap instead of out hunting. He could have at least told her he wouldn't be able to hunt because he'd be out wooing Leevy. She glared daggers at their retreating forms and huffed in irritation. She was furious with Gale, but she was also jealous that Leevy so easily monopolized his entire day off, above her, his hunting partner and friend, and even his own family.

And suddenly, Katniss felt inexplicably sad. Gale was drifting away from her now, just as he'd said everyone would. Only three weeks later, and it was already happening.

Someone took her hand, and she blinked back into focus. Peeta was leaning over from his crate, soup and bread forgotten, as he cradled her hand in his palm, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and across the tops of her fingers.

All sensation in her body suddenly relocated to that single area. It felt amazing. Katniss dragged her eyes up to his, still completely concentrated on the soft movements of Peeta's finger over hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked, expression full of concern.

"Huh?" Did he think her hand was hurt? Was he asking if she liked what he was doing, because if so-

Peeta cut his eyes in Gale and Leevy's direction for explanation. She followed his gaze.

Oh. Right. "I'm fine. I just don't appreciate being lied to," she bit out.

His fingers curled into hers and she drew a shaky breath as she gathered herself enough to elaborate.

"We have a long-standing arrangement on Sundays. But it looks like he's found more pressing concerns," Katniss said with sarcasm.

Peeta slid his other hand over hers, encapsulating it between the heavy warmth of his calloused palms. She felt her stomach fill with a pleasing sensation.

"Is that why you were here? To meet Gale?" His voice was pained.

Katniss nodded dumbly, wondering how Peeta knew she'd been searching for her hunting partner when he'd spotted her from the platform.

"Time will help Katniss. You deserve so much better."

She furrowed her brows, puzzled. She and Gale would only get _more_ distant with time, not less. And there was no better hunting partner, not in the whole district. She looked back up from their clasped hands.

"Wait, do you think… Me and Gale? Together, like… _together_?" She wasn't good at saying some things, but Peeta caught her meaning.

"Well, yeah. He's been really proprietary of you lately when you trade, and you looked so sad just now, I thought-"

"You thought our Sunday arrangement was at the _slag heap!_ " she realized, her voice laced with disbelief.

"But didn't you just _say_ that?" Peeta asked agitatedly. "That you two arrange to meet here every Sunday, and you're here to see Gale? Then he waltzes off from that exact location!"

It was too much. Katniss burst out laughing, and Peeta looked utterly confused, which tickled her even further. It was such a wild notion that she began laughing anew each time she considered it. If she needed a place to secretly meet Gale, why wouldn't she just go to the forest? And Peeta knew they spent their Sundays there, since he traded with them each afternoon. It was utter nonsense. Her amusement must have been contagious, because eventually Peeta joined in, chuckling more and more as he considered the ridiculous scenario his mind had leaped to.

This was how Ripper found them, snickering and giggling outside the Hob, Katniss wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Here ya go, Mellark," she said, handing him a small sack of malted barley. "You can deliver the bread to my stand when you've made it." She watched while Katniss slumped against the wall behind her in exhaustion, her mirth gradually subsiding.

"Now that's a sight you don't see every day." And with that, Ripper walked back into the Hob. The two got to their feet, and Katniss stooped to collect their bowls and spoons, which would have to be returned to Greasy Sae. Now that her amusement had abated, the reality of Gale's involvement with Leevy was back on her mind.

She straightened up to find Peeta's eyes on her, a small smile gracing his lips. She gave a little smile in return as she remembered the feel of his hands around hers. Peeta was always pulling smiles from her she didn't know she had.

"Thank you for finding me malt, Katniss. And for eating with me. It was wonderful to see this part of your life," Peeta said, looking at the building behind her. "It's an exciting place. I enjoyed every minute."

Katniss was shocked to hear he'd enjoyed their time together. She'd spent half the time looking for Gale, and the other half either rushing him past stands or getting into arguments with drunken victors. Not to mention the whole awkwardness surrounding Sae's bread and then Gale and Leevy's appearance.

"But I nearly traded blows with Haymitch and spent a good ten minutes laughing at you," she pointed out.

"I know. But I'll greedily take any time you're willing to give me, Katniss. Whether it's a smile as you hand over a squirrel at my door or a stroll through Twelve's black market, I'll gladly be there, if it's with you."

Peeta reached between them and took up her free hand in his own. He gave her fingers a light squeeze, and said with a smile, "Have a good rest of the evening, Katniss," before turning and heading toward town. The orange of the sunset seeped below the horizon as he walked away.

When she got home, Katniss didn't even remember bringing the bowls and spoons back inside.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thank you for reading, I hope this one was enjoyable!
> 
> I am so grateful to everyone who has commented or given kudos, and liked/reblogged/or messaged me about it on tumblr - you guys are wonderful and so generous, and the encouragement was a huge motivating force in finally finishing the chapter.
> 
> I got a lot of new readers in the last week, and if someone's mention or rec of this fic was responsible, I'd like to give you a big thank you! Many thanks also go to Mejhiren, for her feedback, astute observations, and brilliant predictions.
> 
> I'd like to give a shout-out to Prizz on AO3 - your mention of Katniss needing a new hair tie in your review inspired the entire beginning of the chapter, and helped me get the ball rolling with Gale and Katniss!
> 
> Though not a huge part of the chapter, I hope Katniss' reaction to Haymitch was understandable. I see Haymitch getting much worse as a mentor as years pass and nothing changes, and I think Katniss would lack most of the compassion she had when she was put in similar shoes. Though she wasn't entirely fair in her summation of him, there is canonical evidence that Haymitch normally stays drunk through the games, doesn't pursue sponsors, and is a lackluster mentor at best, before the turning point with Katniss volunteering. I don't think she'd be very sympathetic as the years pass.
> 
> Lastly, I hope you'll leave a comment. :) (And if you prefer shorter, uniform chapters, like the previous two, to this long one, feel free to let me know!) I'm GhtlovesThg on tumblr. Sometimes I put up teasers for future chapters there.


	4. Hinge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited to fix some typos after posting*
> 
> Endless thanks to my indispensable proofreader, The RPGenius, who isn't afraid to be honest. This story is a 100x better than it would have been, thanks to you. Love and cheer to Elisabeth, always.
> 
> The Hunger Games trilogy, in all its forms, does not belong to me. Conversely, I practically belong to the Hunger Games trilogy.

Katniss stood at the side of the road leading from the Seam to the mines, waiting for Gale. She'd gotten all her hunting and trading done for the day, and she'd had plenty of time to think the whole while.

Gale couldn't just avoid her indefinitely, as he was about to find out.

The whistle signaling the end of the day-shift had sounded some twenty minutes ago, and the first miners could be seen on the road ahead, trudging home from a day of back-breaking labor. Katniss planted a half-smile on her lips as they passed, nodding to the ones she recognized.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, she recognized Gale's lean form ahead. He was speaking in hushed tones with another miner. His friend Thom, by the looks of it. They began chortling at something, only to be cut short when Gale recognized Katniss waiting for him.

"You go on ahead, Thom. I'll see you tomorrow," Gale muttered, before turning and heading in her direction.

When he reached her, Katniss shifted back and forth on her feet. He was completely blackened by coal dust, save his teeth and the whites of his eyes. And clearly, he was exhausted. Maybe she should have waited until he'd gotten home and had a chance to sit down, before seeking him out.

He raised his eyebrows and asked impatiently, "You had something to say?"

"Are you avoiding me?" She blurted, before grimacing -what an awful way to start. _Clearly_ he was avoiding her.

"No. Okay, maybe a little. But not nearly as much as you undoubtedly think I am, Katniss," he sighed tiredly. "The first two weeks after what happened at the lake, yeah, I was avoiding you. You really hurt me, and I didn't want to see you at all. I didn't expect you'd bring half your game over when you were just as mad at me.

"Last week, Rory was supposed to come and tell you not to bother sharing your game, because I was too busy to go into the woods. I don't know where he went or what he did instead, but the message clearly never reached you. So I'm sorry about that. "

"Too busy?" Katniss snorted. "Too busy at the slag heap with Leevy, you mean. Be honest Gale, I saw you there. I just don't understand how you could do that at the expense of your family. I know how much you all need the game. We're a team, and I care what happens to them."

"My family?" Gale was clearly agitated. "How about you stop pretending you know the first thing about me and my family. They _know_ I won't be hunting for a few weeks. I work a twelve-hour shift six days a week Katniss, sunup to sundown. You tell me when I'm supposed to have time to court someone if not on Sunday."

Katniss opened her mouth to answer, only to realize she couldn't.

"See, I had it all figured out. I thought this girl I hunt with was going to come to her senses one day, and feel for me what I felt for her. But I was wrong. Really wrong," he spat.

"So now I've got to take time off hunting. Because I have two more mouths to feed than you do Katniss, and we can't all avoid working in the mines by traipsing through the woods every day. That's a luxury I can't afford."

Gale pushed past her, continuing on his way home.

"Who's going to maintain your snare line, Gale? What about all the animals that are caught that you never come to collect!"

"This is what _you_ wanted, Katniss," he scoffed. "So take it as repayment for the meat these past few weeks, and as a parting gift. The snare line's all yours. I'm not your hunting partner anymore."

* * *

Katniss cursed as she fumbled with the wire encircling the hare's foot. Everything was coated with a sheen of rainwater from the previous night, and her hands kept slipping. The morning was off to a bad start already.

She was proficient with snares, but Katniss had never possessed Gale's gift for the traps. That had never bothered her before, but now each one she set and reset served as a reminder that only two weeks ago, Gale had shrugged off roughly eight years of teamwork and friendship, seemingly without a thought.

He was apparently finished with the woods, she thought gloomily, tucking an ensnared rabbit into her game bag. The bow he'd always used had disappeared from their stowing spot sometime after their last discussion, and Gale hadn't shown up to hunt since.

As Katniss was gathering up her game bag, she saw them. Deer tracks, and relatively fresh ones. It was early enough for deer to still be out in the open, and the prints led off into unfamiliar territory close to the perimeter of the fence. It was this proximity that tempted her. She couldn't carry a deer back to the Seam by herself, but if she bagged it close to the fence, she might be able to field dress it, divvy it up into several trips' worth of venison, and tie the extra up into a tree until she could come back for it later in the day.

It was a lure she couldn't resist. Venison fetched a high price, and a deer of any size was a veritable gold mine. She slung her half-full game bag over her shoulder and started off in the direction indicated by the tracks.

Her excitement grew the longer she tracked her prey. It was easy, with the rainfall overnight turning the ground soft. Water hadn't even gathered at the bottom of the hoof prints yet. As she got closer to her target, experience demanded that Katniss proceed with extra caution, to avoid scaring off her quarry.

It was this carefulness that prevented her from running headlong into a snare. The wires were shining with rain water, making it almost invisible in the bright morning light.

Katniss recognized the construction. It was a type Gale had designed himself, and it was freshly strung. It wasn't one of hers, being well out of her normal hunting range, and she knew they'd never been to this part of the forest together.

Gale _had_ been going outside the fence, at least for a week. He was avoiding their hunting grounds, avoiding _her_. He'd abandoned their partnership and his snare line to do it on his own.

The deer was forgotten as Katniss let the situation sink in. Gale really was trying to leave her completely behind. She'd been irritated and disappointed before, but seeing him go to these lengths to avoid her stung like an exposed wound.

Katniss walked back to her woods, upset and defeated. She wanted to go to her father's lake, where she could sit and soak in the memory of being there as a child, when a trip to the forest was uncomplicated and freeing. But she couldn't go, not without being reminded of the argument that had caused all this. Instead, she climbed a nearby tree, and sat thinking in its branches, surrounded by the scarlet leaves of the season.

She was glad for his family's sake that they would have game. She'd been concerned about how they were faring since Gale dissolved their partnership and had even considered appealing to Hazelle. But in keeping separate from her neck of the woods, Gale was seriously compromising the efficacy and output of his new snare line. He couldn't be very familiar with the terrain yet - not the movements of the wildlife in the area, and not the best spots to lay snares. Plus, only checking on Sundays would mean a good deal of the haul would be rotting or picked apart by predators.

Maybe he'd brought Rory into the woods, to check it during the week. Katniss hoped it was so. Gale never asked for help when he needed it. They'd had that in common.

For a long while, their bond had been unassailable, stronger than any hardship, able to withstand any adversity. Until suddenly, it wasn't. She and Gale had been quietly growing apart for some time. Katniss looked up into the blazing red foliage above her, glowing in the bright light of mid-morning. She knew what she _didn't_ want. Just not what she did.

The woods were still, not even the mockingjays could be heard. Wanting answers, Katniss didn't find it soothing. She wished her father was here, suddenly and painfully. He would know what could make her content, or at least know in which direction to point her. He always had.

* * *

Katniss returned early, in no mood to continue hunting after her discovery. Thanks to Gale's gift of the snare line, she'd already had an acceptable haul, and no longer needing to split the spoils meant she could spare herself a painful day in the forest.

As she reached her doorstep, Prim walked around from the back of the house, Lady in tow.

"Headed off to the meadow?" she inquired.

Prim hesitated a beat before replying. "No, I'm going to the bakery. I wanted to introduce Lady to Peeta's pigs. Like in the comic."

Katniss froze. She must have misheard. Yet she knew she hadn't. "What? No, you're not!"

"I am so," her sister proclaimed calmly.

"Prim, they don't _actually_ love each other, they're just animals!"

Prim rolled her eyes, conveying how tedious she found her sister's comment. "Geez, Katniss, I know that! You act like I'm six, not sixteen! I just thought it'd be cute to see them together."

"Peeta's not going to think it's _cute_ to introduce them, he's going to think you're off your rocker!" Thank goodness she'd intercepted Prim!

"I think he'll enjoy it," Prim maintained stubbornly.

"Furthermore, you can't just waltz into the bakery with an old nanny goat at your heels," she continued emphatically. "It's a business, and his mother won't take kindly to it at all." Plus, Katniss felt sure she'd be humiliated.

"Well then it's a good thing I was headed to the back of the bakery, and I brought some of Lady's cheese to trade, isn't it?" Prim asked. "I know for a fact that they make goat cheese and apple tarts this time of year, and the Goat Man raised his prices this year. I'm going to trade some cheese to Peeta for a fraction of the cost, as a thank you for the lovely drawings."

"You are _not_ going there, Prim."

"Peeta doesn't _belong_ to you Katniss, I can visit him if I like." And having refuted all of her sister's protestations, Prim stuck out her tongue impishly and continued on her way.

Katniss wondered if sixteen wasn't all that far off from six, all things considered.

The least she could do was chaperone and intervene to save face when Prim inevitably realized her foolishness. But Primrose only seemed pleased and excited as she knocked on the bakery's back door. It was Katniss who was shifting nervously, wondering what on Earth Peeta would think of Prim's ridiculous visit, and hoping he'd turn her away with the utmost gentleness.

When the door swung open, surprise registered on Peeta's face before it was replaced with a blinding grin.

"Two Everdeen beauties! To what do I owe the honor?"

He looked to Katniss expectantly. "Let me guess, you caught so many squirrels you needed Prim to help carry them?"

"No," Katniss said uncomfortably, "goat cheese," before slanting her eyes in Prim's direction. Once Peeta had turned quizzically to the younger girl, she said proudly, "I've got some to trade at a very good price."

Peeta examined the cheese, and declared it perfect for the bakery's purposes. He told Prim to name her price, and the number she chose was so low it clearly indicated the offering was a gift.

"Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly, glancing to Katniss for confirmation.

"Yes. It's a thank you for the wonderful comic."

"Well then, I will definitely take that trade. Thank you very much Prim."

Peeta looked back at Katniss. "So no squirrels today? You just came by to visit, then?" Katniss would have assumed Peeta was just teasing, except for the hopeful note she thought she detected in his voice. She couldn't explain that her presence was a futile effort to prevent Prim from mortifying them both. "Um, yes. And I'm not the only one here to visit," she reluctantly admitted.

As if on cue, Prim tugged the short lead line she'd looped around Lady's neck, drawing her out from behind the open door, where the prized pet had been munching on the weeds growing along the bakery's stoop. Prim had to clear her throat to divert Peeta's attention from Katniss, but his eyes lit up as they fell on the nanny.

"Is that Lady? You mean to tell me I've been in the presence of _three_ Everdeen girls all this time?"

Prim nodded happily as he continued with another playful question. "Did you bring her to meet her swine swain?"

Katniss watched in disbelief as Prim giggled, confirmed that it had been her intention, and turned to smile smugly at her. They were both mad.

"Well I haven't had lunch yet, so just give me a minute to get my father to mind the kitchen, and we can witness this grand introduction."

Peeta was gone only a moment before stepping out into the backyard with them, closing the door behind him. "It's perfect timing with the goat cheese," he elaborated as he ushered them toward the apple tree and pen. "We use our own apples for the tarts, and my mother orders additional apples from Eleven for the dumplings at the harvest festival. That's where she is now: buried in last year's books, calculating the size of the order we'll place." He set down a cloth parcel under the tree and approached the wooden fence, climbing over the side and into the pen.

As Peeta corralled the smallest of the pigs toward the corner of the enclosure, he called to Prim, "Alright, bring her over! Her gent is ready!"

Prim brought Lady up to the pen, and the two animals regarded each other for a few seconds before Lady lipped at some tall grass along the pen and the pig nosed around in the dirt looking for scraps.

"I think he's shy," Peeta said.

"And she's playing hard to get," Prim added.

Katniss snorted. "More like you two are grasping at straws," she called from under the tree, where she'd chosen to witness the spectacle.

"Prim and I are trying to unite these two star-crossed lovers, and you're over there discouraging the whole thing. You know who that makes you in this scenario, don't you?" he asked, teasingly.

Katniss didn't like where this was going. "Who?" she inquired archly.

"Buttercup."

Prim hooted with glee at his summation. "Ooh, did you see that? That was _definitely_ Buttercup's grimace. Now I know where he gets it from!" she cackled.

Katniss rolled her eyes and shook her head from the base of the tree. The whole thing was descending into ridiculousness. But watching as Prim propped herself up on the wooden pen, giggling herself silly, Katniss didn't mind, even if it _was_ at her expense.

Her stomach swooped as Peeta caught her eye across the bit of yard that separated them, still chuckling. Katniss watched as he swung a leg over the pen and climbed out, then began approaching. Prim stayed, still trying to interest the two animals in each other.

When he stepped under the canopy of the tree, Peeta paused before her, reaching up to the golden-yellow leaves of a low-hanging branch. He plucked two ripe apples, and she watched the shifting lines of his form with fascination. Sitting down beside her, Peeta handed her one of the fruits before gathering the cloth parcel into his lap.

Once it was unwrapped, Katniss saw his lunch consisted of two plain rolls. He graciously offered her one, warning her they were a bit hard. Once she'd declined, he took a few mouthfuls of the first roll, interspersed with bites of the crisp, juicy apple. Katniss found she was unable to drag her eyes from the way his mouth spread over the rosy skin of the apple, or how his lips shone with the sweet juice of the fruit after taking a bite.

"Go ahead," he said, looking at her. "You look like you're dying to try it."

Her eyes darted away from his mouth and up to his eyes in shock before she spluttered a denial. "You might as well," Peeta continued, nodding to the untouched apple in her hands. "They're at their peak; apples don't get any better than this."

Katniss felt her cheeks grow as crimson as the blush of color on the apple, once she realized he'd caught her staring at his lips. She took a small bite of the fruit, wondering if Peeta would find a similar interest in her enjoyment of the apple.

She glanced in his direction after her first bite, just in time to catch him averting his eyes from her mouth, turning his head to gaze out over the backyard. He was biting his lip. Katniss smiled secretly to herself as she chewed. It really was an exquisite apple, tart and sweet, with the perfect snap when she sunk her teeth into it.

"This is my favorite time of year," he mused aloud. "The foliage is amazing, it's as if someone splashed paint on every tree in the woods. Is that what you do in the forest, Katniss? Make paint and dapple the leaves with it?" he asked playfully.

She smirked mysteriously in answer, still eating her apple.

"Makes me want to grab my new brushes and catch a little bit of it on paper."

Today was the first time they'd acknowledged their unspoken exchange of gifts, first with the comic, and now with the paint and brushes. Katniss was elated that he'd enjoyed them.

"My favorite color is everywhere," he continued. "It's that soft sort of orange, between the darker rust-colored leaves and the yellow ones. They look like sunset when the light catches them."

Katniss nodded in agreement. They did seem beautiful, when he described them. She was sure she'd be looking at the woods a bit differently tomorrow morning.

"What about you, what's your favorite season?"

"Spring," Katniss answered without hesitation. "When every living thing that fought through the winter knows they'll make it," she said. "There's a realization that there has been hope all along."

He was watching her closely, but she didn't feel uncomfortable with his regard. "And your favorite color?" he prompted.

"Green."

Peeta nodded. "That makes a lot of sense."

Quiet settled momentarily, and the leaves above whispered with the autumn breeze. Prim's futile pleas, imploring Lady to return to the pen, drifted across the yard.

"In the comic, do you think Lady and Swinton are too much of a long shot?" Peeta asked, watching Prim tug at the lead line in an effort to bring the disinterested, unyielding goat back toward the pig.

Katniss regarded him. He looked and sounded genuinely curious, but the illustrations about the merchant shoat and Seam goat were intentionally based on an utterly absurd premise.

She wasn't sure what answer Peeta could be looking for. "Well, it certainly is _unlikely_."

He frowned and nodded a little to himself. Before she could say anything further, Prim interrupted, plopping down in front of them. "Oh Katniss, don't be silly," she sighed in a long suffering manner, before turning away. "Don't worry Peeta. She's an archer. She lives for long shots."

He was suddenly fighting back a smile, looking gratefully at Prim. Katniss wasn't sure they were all still talking about whether she found the comic believable. She sent Prim a look of annoyance for disrupting them, but her sister just looked pleased with herself, much like Buttercup when someone declared him adorable or clever.

"So that pig was Swinton?" Prim asked a moment later.

"Nah, that one's just my favorite. He was the runt last spring," he answered. "We haven't really named them. If I settled on one of them as Swinton, I figured the others would be jealous," he joked. Katniss knew the real reason he hadn't named them. It would be difficult to treat livestock like pets, and Prim should know better.

"You haven't named _any_ of them?" Prim exclaimed in disbelief.

"Well, we don't get to keep them very long…" He trailed off uncomfortably at the sight of Prim's arched brow and pursed lips.

"Still," she emphasized, "I think they deserve names."

"Prim," Katniss interjected warningly.

"No, it's okay. You can name them if you'd like," Peeta said, handing her several of the fallen apples around them. "Give them these while you're at it." Prim handed Katniss Lady's lead line and headed back over to the pen.

"Thanks for indulging her," she said after a moment. "Prim's very…spirited. Sometimes downright silly. I tried everything to keep her from having to grow up too fast. I think I succeeded, but it means that sometimes she's-"

Peeta laid his hand over hers, stopping her speech in its tracks. "She's perfect and you know it."

Katniss grinned back. She did know it.

"A lot of that's due to you, I'm sure," he added, watching the progress of this thumb as he dragged it along the edge of her wrist. It moved up and around the rounded bone at the juncture between her hand and arm. "This has been the best part of my week, don't apologize for it."

Katniss kept smiling and leaned her head against the old tree trunk, staring up into the brilliant foliage. She couldn't even fathom that this was the very spot that all hope had deserted her nine years ago. Basking in the contentment of the moment, it felt like several lifetimes ago.

Peeta chuckled and Katniss dragged her focus from the memory-laden branches. Lady had apparently tired of the grass and wormy apples underneath the tree and moved on to Peeta's lunch. She was leaning over his arm, nibbling at the bread he'd been holding.

Katniss made an indignant sound, but Peeta reassured her. "Lady's fine, really. Looks as though she enjoys stale bread more than enough for the both of us," he quipped, raising the half-eaten roll to where it was easier for the goat to reach.

"Not that I'm complaining," he rushed to assure her a moment later, his apprehension evident. "I know I'm lucky to get my fill of days-old mark downs. I'm extremely grateful my family deals in food."

He looked at her nervously, remembering the discomfort between them when they'd discussed bread made from tesserae grain. Katniss shrugged off his worry. She'd been counting herself lucky that although her family almost always got last picks of her haul, everything they ate was fresh and varied when compared to a diet consisting chiefly of old bread.

"I wish there was a way to level the playing field a little bit," he said. "Give the Seam access to affordable bread, make it at least a little possible to purchase some loaves on a miner's salary, instead of always relying on more tesserae."

Peeta furrowed his brows in thought, and Katniss considered what he'd said.

"Well, ingredients are expensive, and the materials aren't available here in any real quantity. You're the baker, is there a way to cut costs and lower prices?"

"There are recipes that yield cheaper breads, but any money saved is at the expense of quality. It's a pointless wish," he sighed. "My mother would never cut prices, no matter what she was selling. And we couldn't very well offer a lower price for hardier bread and expect our Merchant customers to keep purchasing the more expensive kind. We'd lose a lot of money."

"It was a nice idea," Katniss offered.

The conversation tapered off just in time to hear Prim naming the last pig. When she settled on "Chrysanthemum" for the massive sow dozing in the corner of the pen, Katniss decided it was time to go, and rose to her feet.

Prim left the newly christened hogs, including Marigold, Juniper, and Oleander behind, making her way back to Katniss' side.

"Will I see you two at the festival in a month?" The Everdeens nodded. No one missed it. "Maybe dancing with a beau?" he directed at Prim.

The younger girl blushed. "Maybe…" she hinted. "Do you dance, Peeta?" Prim asked, glancing in her sister's direction.

"I do, but I'll be working the stand all night."

Prim took the lead line from Katniss' hand, and they said their goodbyes and set off. Peeta was still standing under the apple boughs when she looked back. He waved farewell.

A few days later, Katniss awoke to the tantalizing aroma of flaky pastry, sweet apples, and tart, creamy cheese, as Prim waved a fresh tart in front of her face. "Look what Peeta left me, Katniss," she bragged. "Guess bringing Lady was a good idea after all!"

Katniss grimaced and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. More than likely, that tart had been intended for _her_ , but Prim's triumphant grin was cause enough to overlook her slight irritation. She merely rolled her eyes, feigning reluctance as she sat at the table to sample a third of the pastry.

* * *

Roughly one month later, Katniss and Prim strolled along the edges of the square, taking in the seasonally-themed festival booths and admiring each merchant's harvest decorations. They shared a cup of cider, and Prim was frequently stopped by friends and classmates.

When Primrose was engaged with others, Katniss wandered, and she often found herself drifting past the Mellarks' stand. They were mobbed with customers, so she had to slow her steps and crane her neck just to see Peeta.

About her third time there, she managed to catch his eye, and they exchanged pleased grins over the heads of everyone clamoring for apple dumplings. Katniss gave a little wave, and Peeta, whose hands were more than full with hot pastries, gave a little wink instead. It made the smile curl even further on her face.

At least, until she turned away and her eyes happened to land on Mrs. Mellark. The woman was looking straight at her, and her hate-filled gaze caused all mirth to drop from Katniss' face like a game bird shot from the sky. The baker's wife looked directly from Katniss to her son, eyes narrowed with speculation. Peeta was oblivious to his mother's suspicious regard, handing customers sugary treats with a smile, and Katniss hurried on, not wanting to provoke the woman further with her presence.

Soon the fair was winding down, and the musicians called all the newly engaged couples to the center of the square to start off the final dance. It was common practice in Twelve to announce an engagement at the harvest festival. The event signaled the end of the Victory Tour, and the Capitol's hold over Twelve was able to recede in everyone's mind a bit. People eagerly sought to fill the space with happier thoughts, and toastings fit the bill perfectly.

Katniss wasn't surprised to see Gale and Leevy move to take their place at the center of the square with the other affianced pairs. She watched them dance the first set, and decided that they looked happy. Leevy was clearly quite taken with Gale, and he looked to be enjoying himself. Since Katniss had only seen him sullen and moody in the last few months, she credited Leevy with having a positive effect on him. Perhaps now that they were settled, Gale would come to his senses and be willing to hunt with her again.

Katniss was more surprised to see Prim pulling Rory to the middle of the square when the rest of the couples joined in. Several young men had sought out Prim over the course of the festival, and loving to dance, she had partnered with all of them. But the final dance of the festival held more meaning than the others, and Katniss took note.

While watching Prim twirl and dip, she noticed Mr. and Mrs. Mellark talking with their second eldest son and his wife's family at the edge of the square. Most stands had closed by now, and Katniss realized Peeta would be alone as he packed up the bakery's booth.

Seeing the couples swaying and spinning at the center of the square left Katniss feeling oddly compelled to go see him. Turning away from the moving forms of Gale and her sister, she retraced her steps to the outside perimeter of the area set up for the festivities.

Peeta's back was to her when she reached the stand, so she leaned against the counter, just watching him work. There wasn't a dumpling to be seen, and from the darkened sections on the back of his shirt, it was clear he'd worked up a sweat, even in the chilled air.

When Peeta eventually turned back around, she could see how tired he looked. But his expression still brightened when he saw her. Coming over to the counter, he leaned heavily against it from the other side, sighing tiredly.

"Oof," he said, "What a day."

Katniss smiled ruefully. "Tired of dumplings?"

"Just tired altogether. Though I would be okay with not seeing another apple dumpling for a year. Today was great, though. We sold out, my mother should be pleased."

Peeta swiped his hand through his hair, upsetting the blond waves. Someone ought to tuck the disordered curls back into place for him, she thought. Katniss readjusted her stance, sticking her hands decisively in her pockets.

His hand scrubbed tiredly across his forehead, trying to wipe away the weariness that had settled there. "I'm almost done here."

She was about to ask him if he wanted any help when she caught sight of his wrist. There was an angry welt spreading across the top. It was raised and shiny, the pale skin splashed with a hot, fiery red.

Dismayed, she immediately strode around the counter, taking his hand in her own to inspect it. "What happened?" she demanded. "Was it…"

"It was an accident," he insisted, before adding quietly, "I think." Peeta pulled gently away, and busied himself with brushing crumbs off the workspace and rolling up the remaining wax paper from the day.

Katniss caught at his sleeve, not letting go until he'd turned to meet her stare. Her expression was bitter and plaintive all at once. "I hate that you have to wonder," she whispered.

Peeta's eyes swept her face, and Katniss realized that in her worry, she'd drawn close to his side. Her concern was showing clearly, and feeling vulnerable, she averted her gaze.

"Hey," he said gently, as if, impossibly, she was the one requiring comfort. "Katniss, I'm fine. I don't want you thinking you need to worry about me, because I'm okay."

Peeta cupped her cheek, drawing her focus back. "Really." While she watched him, his lips tilted into the barest of smiles, a further attempt to reassure her. Before he could draw away, Katniss tentatively brought her hand up to rest over his, trying to communicate her sorrow without words.

"How can someone do that to their child?" she intoned. "Someone they love? I'm sorry Peeta, I just don't understand."

He shrugged helplessly, unable to provide the answer. "Don't apologize for her Katniss. A person like you should never have to apologize for a person like her. You could never do something like that, you would be a wonderful parent."

She shook her head, almost to herself. "I won't though. I'm not having children. Not ever." 

Peeta drew back a little, studying her face. He had a look of understanding, both sorrowful and accepting. "That's too bad then," he rasped, "Because I think you'd be great at it. But I get it, I really do. This isn't exactly an ideal place for welcoming a child."

She nodded in agreement. "I refuse to be complicit in sending a child to the Games, even unintentionally."

They stood together silently as the dance wound down. Couples embraced and walked off through the square, but neither saw, lost in their thoughts.

* * *

Katniss had hoped Gale would approach her the following Sunday about taking up their partnership again. She wouldn't accept that he didn't want to hunt together anymore.

It took her almost that whole day to locate him in the unfamiliar section of woods, relying on his snares to act as trail markers.

He was hunched over, putting the finishing touches on one of his traps when she finally spotted him.

"Gale."

He startled, triggering his trap in the process. Cursing, Gale got to his feet, crossing his arms as he waited expectantly.

"Alright Katniss, you've got my attention."

"I was wondering if- I was coming to see you in case-" She took a breath to gather her thoughts. "Now that you're engaged, are you going to stop punishing me for what happened at the lake and come hunting again?"

Gale closed his eyes in frustration and sighed, running agitated fingers through his hair.

"I thought I made it clear Katniss. That's not happening anymore."

"But you're just compromising _both_ our hauls!" she protested. "You don't know this area, so you can't be utilizing it to its full potential yet, and I don't have time to cover the snare line, forage, _and_ hunt each day. We need to team up for our families' sakes."

Gale shook his head. "Katniss, you need to stop thinking of our families as one unit. That's exactly what you turned down."

"I didn't mean that way-"

"And you should know we can't just disappear from the district together every week, not when one of us is engaged and everyone knows I pursued you before Leevy. They'll think we're-"

"Okay, I see what you're saying," she interrupted. "But it's not like that, everyone will figure that out eventually."

Gale looked at her, pitying disbelief on his face. "Katniss. It's not like that for _you_. It's still very much like that for me. Leevy knows I'm not entering our engagement completely unattached, but she's willing to accept that. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the things she's given up for this.

"What kind of fiancé would I be if I don't also give things up to protect our future together? I'm not going to put her in a position where she needs to wonder, so I promised her I would hunt alone from now on. I won't give her a reason to doubt me. And being in the woods with you every Sunday would do exactly that," he said, pinning her with a stare.

Katniss stood there, defeated. There was nothing she could do to get him back, as partner or friend.

"It was your decision never to move forward because you were too afraid to lose anything. Deciding to never give anything up doesn't mean nothing can be lost. Usually it means nothing will be gained."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"Sometimes Katniss, when you give something up, you get more than you expected in return." He paused for a moment, then continued, quietly. "Leevy and I are going to try for a baby right away once we've had our toasting."

She didn't know what to say. "I've got to let my feelings for you fade," he continued. "Leevy deserves that much, and it won't happen if you're around.

"Even if you don't like it, you need to give me a chance to do that. If for nothing else, do it because we were friends so long. And I'll try to go back to the way I saw you when I only considered us hunting partners."

With that, Gale turned and walked further on, melting into the terrain around him like a true trapper.

Katniss slowly crouched to reset the snare he'd triggered. It took her three tries, because her hands were shaking.

She hated change. And the greatest fear Katniss had ever known was having those she loved taken away from her. She'd limited her attachments significantly, trying to avoid just such an occurrence. But Katniss had never considered a scenario where the loss was anything but out of her control. Now, because of she and Gale's individual choices, five of the people in Twelve that she cared most about were off-limits.

Katniss hurried back to the woods she knew and loved. After his appeal to her, every minute in Gale's new territory made her feel like an intruder. She hadn't wanted any part of this mess, and now she was apparently prolonging it.

Increasingly upset, Katniss didn't notice one of her own snares and tripped, hitting the ground hard. She smacked the dirt beneath her in frustration and disappointment. She could remember when they'd planned out the exact placement and orientation of that particular snare, one they'd replicated in the same area over and over through the years due to its overwhelming success. He wouldn't be missing her input on such things now.

Katniss got to her feet, angry with her own reaction. She was fine, as was everyone else. Nothing tragic had happened. If losing loved ones was inevitable, and this was how it had to happen, wasn't it immeasurably preferable to the ways she'd lost them in the past?

The next Sunday, she paused before ducking through the hole in the fence. This was the only day Gale could hunt. She was in his way, even if they kept to different tracts of forest - they used the same entrance, there could still be talk. Katniss knew he needed the forest as much as she did, for both survival and sanity. Maybe more, if his family was growing. And he'd been the one to make the sacrifice of moving to new territory in order to give her a wide berth.

Gale needed to catch as much game as possible. There'd be another mouth to feed soon enough. And someday, he'd want to teach that little person to feed themselves, in case something happened to him in the mines. Just as her father had taught her on those days, long ago. She would give Gale Sundays.

He wouldn't know it at first, but eventually he'd realize she wasn't checking the line or slipping past the fence - they were trackers and could easily notice the signs of each other's movements. Plus, he had to cut through his old stomping grounds to reach his new ones. He'd see the game that had been trapped but not collected. It would be her unspoken toasting gift to him.

As she walked hollowly back to her house, Katniss realized she'd proven Gale wrong. She'd given something up, and for him - the day each week that she'd spent with her father in the woods, all those years back. The finality and loss of it felt terrible, as expected, but Katniss didn't regret it. It was the right thing to do.

But she seriously suspected Gale was wrong about gaining something in return. In District Twelve, things didn't improve. They only worsened, Katniss knew.

* * *

Katniss needed to occupy her Sundays somehow, but with what, she didn't know. Mending clothing, organizing her mother's healing supplies and helping to clean the house passed the time, but she still felt restless after. Katniss wasn't one for loitering around, not at home or out in the District, and she felt cooped up. There was nothing to trade that necessitated a trip around the Seam, to the Hob, or even into town.

And therein lied another problem. Not hunting on Sunday meant no reason to go to the bakery. Katniss had become quite used to seeing Peeta on an almost daily basis, and this unforeseen side effect made her cross and grouchy.

One thing she noticed, when sitting listlessly in the kitchen, thumbing idly through her family's plant book, was that Rory seemed to be around a lot, and always with Prim. Katniss wondered if he spent all his afternoons at their house, and being in the woods each day, she just hadn't known. It seemed Rory and Prim never wanted to stay in the same room with her. Primrose claimed they were simply friends, but remembering the last dance at the harvest festival, Katniss couldn't help but doubt that a little. Her mother seemed unconcerned with the situation, so she decided to merely observe. But seeing Gale's younger brother on a constant basis further convinced Katniss that she needed to find a distraction from the woods.

It wasn't long before Peeta noticed her absence at his door on Sunday afternoons. The topic came up one weekday when she'd stayed to chat after trading. They were both leaning against the open back door, basking in the warmth from the bakery's kitchen. She stood with her hands behind her, holding the wooden frame, as Peeta leaned up against the jamb on the opposite side. The position kept them close, which Katniss liked. The day was a cold one, and she found herself wishing she could stand even closer to absorb some of his body heat. Katniss couldn't help but remember that unexpected hug last winter.

He'd been recounting a humorous instance of a recipe gone horribly wrong, and her initial laughter was tapering off into quiet chuckling. Something in Peeta's eyes changed as he looked at her, from pleased mirth to hopeful longing.

"I really like you, Katniss," he said in a rush, as though the words had slipped past him to rush out into the safety of open air.

Her breath caught with pleasure at his words, even as her stomach danced with nervousness. "I…like you too," she ended on a whisper. She was usually reluctant to reveal fondness for others, but Katniss couldn't deny her affection for the youngest baker's son, not even to him.

"Yeah?" he breathed.

She nodded shyly. Katniss wasn't sure exactly what that revelation encompassed, she only knew that being around him was a state far preferable to almost any other, and that no matter how recently or frequently she'd seen him, she was always in anticipation of being near him again. Even after prolonged interactions, Katniss wanted to linger just a few moments longer, and no matter what he talked about, she was always eager to hear more.

She felt a moment's apprehension, wondering if she'd ventured too much, but his resulting smile at her words was shy, with just the right touch of sweetness, and it eased her mind. There was no speculation or expectation in his expression, and he'd readily accepted her words at face value.

Encouraged by her response, Peeta continued on. "I've missed seeing you these last few Sundays."

She'd missed him too, but Katniss couldn't quite bring herself to divulge that much. Instead, she studied her feet to hide the agreement in her eyes. "I don't hunt on Sundays anymore."

"Well, the bakery always closes early that day. If you're not busy, would you like to go on a walk with me next Sunday?

"Um, alright."

"Okay." Peeta couldn't have looked happier than if they'd cancelled the Hunger Games. "Should I come get you?"

She hesitated before shaking her head. It was one thing for the son of a baker to leave things resembling deliveries on their doorstep, at a time when no one was about, but to be seen with a merchant escorting her out of the Seam was something else entirely. She didn't know of _any_ Seam-merchant friendships, outside of her own with Madge. And that didn't seem quite the same. That friendship had existed over a lunch table and for group projects at school. Madge's status as daughter of the district mayor seemed to preclude her from the conventions everyone else adhered to.

Katniss did business with merchants on a daily basis, and she was fine with bucking the trend for the sake of someone like Peeta or Madge, especially given her own origins. But she didn't want Prim to receive any flak for her friendship with Peeta. There were plenty in the Seam and town alike who had an interest in keeping the two populations divided. His mother, for one.

But she couldn't resist the pull of more time with Peeta. And something to distract her from the woods on Sunday was _exactly_ what she needed.

"We should meet somewhere. There's a run-down hut by the side of the road, midway between the town and the Seam."

Peeta nodded. He'd seen it going to and from her doorstep. "I'll be there as soon as I get off work on Sunday."

With that established, she pushed off the doorframe, preparing to leave. They said their farewells, but just as Peeta moved to close the door, Katniss heard his mother's voice shouting his name from the storefront.

"Peeta!"

His head jerked to the side in response, eyes widening and pupils dilating. There was a moment where Peeta's fingers rigidly clutched the door and his nostrils flared with rapidly drawn breath. The changes in him were instantaneous, but Katniss was able to catalogue them, having seen them so many times before.

Peeta was behaving like cornered prey did, in the moment when the quarry realized it was caught and paused, torn between fleeing and charging.

"Bring out some more rye! We're all out!"

The change in him was immediate. Tension fled his form and his hands relaxed on the doorframe as he turned back to face her. Peeta gave her a chagrinned smile, embarrassed by his reaction as he softly closed the door between them.

Walking home, Katniss considered that for all the privileges and luxuries of a merchant life, every day had been a survival game for Peeta too, in a way. Just of a different sort than hers. Nothing could be more telling than his response to Mrs. Mellark's voice, still ingrained in him even as an adult. She wished he had a place to go and escape all that, like she had with the forest.

* * *

Katniss was still thinking along those lines on Sunday, as she walked to the abandoned shack between the Seam and town. It was the perfect place to meet, equidistant between them, and most importantly, far away from his mother's prying eyes.

After her return home, Katniss had realized that above all, for Peeta's own well being, his mother could not find out about their walk. The woman hated everyone from the Seam, and had always seemed to have a particular grudge against her specifically. Katniss had come to the unpleasant conclusion that the welt on Peeta's wrist at the festival was likely a form of 'accidental' retribution, taking her repeated presence at the stand that day out on Peeta.

She'd considered calling it off, but the thought of Peeta's face if she did rendered her incapable of taking that step. Also, she was hoping that a little time away from the bakery could serve as some form of escape for him, however fleeting. Katniss couldn't deny she'd been eagerly anticipating the approach of Sunday, as well.

No, they would just have to stick to the roads along the outskirts of Twelve, away from the Seam and Town. The pathways leading to the mines would serve their purposes. It was the only day miners were able to stay above ground, so the roads to the mines would be deserted.

When Katniss greeted Peeta, exactly where she'd asked him to wait, he agreed to her proposed itinerary, and they set off. It wasn't a nice day at all, gray and sharply cold, but Katniss didn't even notice. Having Peeta all to herself without worry or distraction was a heady treat indeed, and the only thing that occupied her mind was their conversation.

At the end of their walk, they seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to meet the next week. After two Sundays together, Katniss couldn't imagine spending the time anyplace else, and it became a weekly occurrence.

It never felt like she was trying to fill the hours to make the day pass. Spending an extended amount of time with him, she found, was as wonderful as any day in the forest. They talked at length about a wide variety of subjects, but there were periods of silence as well.

The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable, but companionable. There was a calming sense of belonging when they were together those afternoons. It was like slipping into something strangely familiar, despite its newness, yet unquestionably right. It wasn't long before Katniss knew that she liked nothing more than occupying the same silence as Peeta.

During the strolls, their hands occasionally bumped when their gaits accidentally intersected. After a few weeks, Katniss kept her hand outside her pocket, swinging it widely at her side despite the cold, hoping for a momentary collision of brushing fingers and palms with her walking partner.

One week, after several failed attempts, and almost a half-hour of self encouragement, Katniss slipped her fingers tentatively into the curve of his palm. Without missing a beat, Peeta's hand enfolded her own and his fingers sought hers, tangling them together. Once it was clear he wouldn't pull away after a few minutes, Katniss looked over, meeting his shining eyes with her own.

She felt as though she'd found a secret the Capitol had overlooked, far too wonderful to ever be granted freely to an average citizen of Panem. Nonetheless, the discovery was hers and she intended to keep it, protecting what was between them if necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you so much for reading, I hope you found it enjoyable. Everyone's support has been simply wonderful, thank you for every kudos, comment and view! A heartfelt thanks goes out to all the lovely tumblr users who've shown interest in the story. You guys are the bees' knees!
> 
> I've been really scattered lately, which I hope didn't show up in this. I tried to respond to most comments last time with at least a thank you, but I fell behind when I really got started with this chapter. I have EVERY intention of getting to each one, so some of you might be receiving wildly belated responses. I apologize if I miss anyone!
> 
> We are pretty much out of the woods where Gale is concerned (finally). I felt like completely altering their relationship in a single chapter was a disservice to their long-standing friendship, and while he's not out of the picture entirely, there won't be a tremendous focus on scenes involving him going forward. (Just in case that's a relief to anyone. It is to me. He's not my favorite character to write.) The story will start moving a bit faster from here on out. :)
> 
> I keep getting surprised by ideas that spring up from people's reviews, so this time, I'd like to give a shout out to dear FortuneFaded2012 on ff.net, who mentioned that Peeta should officially meet Prim. That led to the longest scene in the whole chapter, many thanks! :D
> 
> I am GhtlovesThg on tumblr. :)


	5. Frame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to my proofreader The RPGenius. I am always astounded by your editing super powers.
> 
> I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy

The ramshackle structure between Seam and Town quickly became very familiar to Katniss. She felt it was like the woods, a promise, an escape that was always waiting for her. It was neutral ground, and Katniss felt as though it extended a barrier around her when she was there, one that kept the woes of District Twelve at bay outside, unable to intrude upon them.

But on Sundays, even when leaving the sanctity of its pock-marked, uneven yard, the feeling of contentment and safety stayed, sheltering her as they walked the deserted roads on the outskirts of Twelve. In this case, it was Peeta who put her at ease. The combination of his presence and the little shack's sense of security and remoteness was like a balm to her long, exhausting weeks.

Each winter morning, Katniss heated up some rocks at the hearth while boiling a breakfast of tessera grain or warming up leftover soup. The stones held warmth for hours, and when tucked into her pockets, prevented her fingers from going numb while in the woods.

Despite having several stones available, Katniss studiously ignored all but two of them every Sunday. She left the rest warming by the fire when she went to meet Peeta, regardless of the four hands and pockets between them.

Katniss could barely be prevailed upon to wear gloves those days, in anticipation of the moment during their walk when one of them would reach out for the other's hand. She wasn't going to give Peeta a reason to keep that hand buried in his pocket.

So each time, she offered him exactly one heated stone, explaining that there were only two, but they could share them. Peeta would smile as he accepted, amusement in his eyes, because rocks weren't exactly hard to come by in Twelve. Then again, he didn't bring any either. Both were all too happy to keep one pocket cold, and sacrifice warm fingers for clasped hands.

Peeta proved quite adept at soothing Katniss' ruffled feathers. She grew increasingly agitated as Rory became a fixture at her house, and she recognized all the signs of a growing attachment between he and Prim. Besides being gruff and sullen anytime he was around, there wasn't much Katniss could do, a fact which she lamented to Peeta.

He merely laughed, not unkindly, and asked if Rory was a respectable young man.

"I suppose," Katniss admitted. "He was raised well; all of Hazelle's children are good people."

"And do you think he is well-intentioned as far as Prim is concerned?"

"Yes, I think so," she hedged worriedly. But who could _really_ know, she wondered.

"Do you think he loves Prim?" Peeta inquired.

"Of course," Katniss said impatiently. "Who wouldn't, after all? But I think Rory always has. He's been an absolute fool around her ever since becoming a young man."

Peeta smiled warmly. "I wonder if Prim feels the same?" he mused.

I would assume so," she snorted. "She acts lovesick enough. I caught her singing to Lady about him the other day." Katniss rolled her eyes.

"Well isn't that all you could want for her, Katniss? Love given and returned between them?"

She stared ahead, troubled. It _was_ all she hoped for when it came to her little sister. Katniss wanted Prim to be surrounded by people who cherished her, and clearly Rory did. It was also no secret that Primrose practically glowed in the boy's presence. She knew she should be supportive and happy for her sister, but Katniss was worried.

It felt as though everything was happening at once, and changing before she could catch up. Her little duck was slipping away from her. Of course Katniss knew Prim would grow up and eventually leave her behind, but it seemed to be starting so much sooner than expected.

Before leaving to meet Peeta, Katniss had been shooting glares in Rory's direction while skinning the game for their dinner. Her intention had been to make him nervous and establish who was boss, and it had worked. But perhaps she was being selfish and unfair. Undoubtedly Prim hadn't appreciated her behavior, and Katniss knew any overt jealousy or animosity on her part would put she and Prim at odds.

Katniss sighed. Maybe it was time to accept that Prim was seriously interested in the second eldest Hawthorne.

Peeta tugged their joined hands, drawing her close enough to nudge her shoulder.

"You'll get used to it and things will be alright Katniss," he reassured. "Once you settle into it, you'll feel like it was always this way."

"Like this?"

Peeta glanced at her for explanation. "Like what?"

" _This_ ," Katniss emphasized, raising their clasped hands. "Us walking."

"Oh."

Katniss could tell from his expression that he was pleased and a little surprised. "Yes, exactly," he confirmed softly, but with conviction.

"Are you ever surprised about being here together?" she asked, dodging an icy puddle. "Every week, like clockwork. Even a few months ago, I never would have imagined it."

Peeta looked at the path before them. "Me neither. I never really expected to talk to you, so that day you came into the bakery kitchen, I wasn't prepared and I just choked."

Katniss recalled him running out of the bakery to talk to her the following winter. "You made up for that later, though."

"That's because I'd already had my chance and blown it. I had nothing to lose, so all the pressure was off," he explained.

"But, Peeta…why would there be so much pressure? You didn't even know me."

He bit his lip and glanced sideways at her before he continued. "I didn't know you then, but I'd always wanted to."

Katniss squeezed his hand, smiling to herself. She felt there was more to the explanation, but there was time to find out the rest. Her time with him had quickly become an irreplaceable part of her life.

* * *

Eventually, the stark chill of winter began to thaw, as did her attitude toward Rory. Prim's delight and gratitude was plain to see, and Katniss felt guilty that she'd been stubborn and unaccepting for so long.

Nevertheless, she strove to put the likely approaching changes out of her mind. Katniss couldn't dash out the door fast enough when Prim asked Rory about Gale's upcoming toasting, and she pretended not to hear her sister's wishful, envious sighs at the details of the preparations.

It was March and the hint of spring could be felt in the air. A hopeful tendril wound through Katniss, as it always did. But the season often brought change in the Seam as well, leaving her feeling wary. The only recourse was to jog to the shack that was their meeting place a little faster. Peeta could always be counted upon to put the business with Prim and Rory out of her mind for a while.

That particular afternoon, Peeta had asked her to describe the advent of spring in her forest (he always referred to the woods as belonging to her, which she liked immensely), and she'd gladly obliged. While not particularly talkative by nature, the subject was one Katniss truly adored, and Peeta's ability to share in enjoyment of the topic had her filling the conversation with enthused descriptions of germinating plants and gestating animals. He seemed as excited as she about the availability of ramps and comfrey and encouraged her to describe in minute detail the glittering swarms of minnows in her lake.

Peeta had watched her for most of the walk, which Katniss chalked up to him being a good listener, in addition to being a skilled conversationalist. But when they'd returned to the dilapidated hut, and stood outside in farewell, Peeta was still looking at her intently. It was then that Katniss realized, with a jolt of surprise, that he'd barely taken his eyes off her all evening. Though timely, her realization was several steps behind Peeta's train of thought.

"Katniss, can I kiss you?"

She froze, taken aback, and found herself unable to formulate a response. The most she could do was stare up at him helplessly, wide-eyed, as if pleading for the correct answers.

But Peeta wasn't providing them. He merely waited, patient and hopeful, until her gaze lowered to his mouth, considering the lips in question.

His question had caught her so unexpectedly, she felt as though she was reeling, and blamed that for the way she swayed slightly forward. Peeta misinterpreted the movement as reciprocal interest and acquiescence, and began carefully leaning toward her.

Watching his approach, Katniss frantically tried to decide what she wanted to happen. But all she could think about was another March, one in which she was hopeless and lost, abandoned by a frozen and unresponsive parent. Her mother had been unreachable, and Katniss blamed the sentiment that Peeta was now seeking to kindle between them.

Petrified, Katniss quickly turned her head, and Peeta's lips brushed her cheek. Still, a warm sensation rushed through her at the contact. When he realized her reluctance, Peeta quickly pulled back.

"I'm so sorry," he blurted nervously. "I thought- When you leaned forward…" Peeta shook his head, flustered, and started over.

"If you don't want…I just thought you might- _maybe_ …"

Frustrated at his inability to complete a coherent thought, he dragged his hands through his hair, tugging on the waves in frustration. He gave up on his botched explanation, and his shoulders slumped in defeated acceptance. "I should go," he said. "It's getting late and you'll be wanting to get home."

Katniss said nothing, mortified and befuddled. When no protest issued from her, Peeta released her hand, turned, and hurried back to town in the twilight.

The inside of her palm was instantly cold, and Katniss reached up to place it on her cheek, which was still flushed and tingling. On her way home, she marveled that the streets and houses still looked the same, when she knew everything had changed.

* * *

Things didn't _have_ to be different, she reasoned as she lay in bed that night. They could just pretend today never happened, and go on as before.

Peeta had looked remorseful when he'd left, and for that, Katniss was sorry. Did he think he had ruined everything, or was he dismayed she hadn't let him kiss her?

Katniss shifted restlessly as she recalled the last moments of their walk. She'd sort of known, at least for a little while, that he felt something for her. But she hadn't cared.

She sighed uncomfortably into the night air. Rather, she _had_ cared; she'd been secretly pleased. It felt wonderful to know he cared for her. She cared for Peeta too, but she was unwilling to allow their mutual affection go anywhere. It would be too radical a change, and too risky a scenario, her being involved with a Merchant boy. There would be talk and disapproval on both sides of District Twelve.

She could barely handle the notion of Prim being involved with someone, even when they were a member of a trusted family from the Seam. What could induce her to make an even greater leap herself?

Plus, she'd sworn she would never have children. And she had even told Peeta as much. Had Peeta forgotten, or was he only interested in something fleeting without attachment?

Katniss huffed in annoyance and turned over. Prim sat up on the other side of the bed, groggy, and whined angrily. "For goodness' sake, Katniss, settle down! Neither of us are going to get any sleep if you keep huffing like chimney and fidgeting all night!"

Katniss grabbed Prim's pillow and clamped it over her exposed ear. She couldn't take this right now. These things were easy for Prim.

The youngest Everdeen sighed at her sister's display. "I'm sleeping with Mom. Have fun tossing and turning all night," Prim grumbled over her shoulder, as she shuffled out of the bed. The sting of her barb was significantly dulled by a massive yawn.

Nonetheless, Katniss growled in reply and burrowed deeper into the pillows and blankets, trying to hide from her incessantly cycling thoughts. Was Peeta this troubled by today's events? Or was he asleep at this very moment? She'd be trading with him tomorrow, how would that go? Maybe he wouldn't want to speak with her.

Even if Peeta wasn't willing to talk with her right away, he'd have to come around after a little while. Wouldn't he? She tried to reassure herself that his family needed her squirrels, but that didn't make her feel any better. The only thing that eased her fretting mind was the hope that their friendship was too important for Peeta to leave behind. Because despite her indecision and confusion, there was one thing Katniss was sure of. She wasn't willing to give up Peeta or their Sundays.

* * *

It was with nervous trepidation that Katniss knocked on the bakery back door that Monday. It took a Peeta a several minutes to open the door, an interval during which Katniss twisted the opening of her game bag round and round in her fingers.

"Hi Katniss," Peeta said pleasantly, looking down at the wrinkled fabric of the bag in her hands. "Something to trade?"

"Um, yeah." she confirmed. He seemed cheerful enough. His tone was friendly. "Just the regular squirrel."

Peeta nodded and looked from the bag back into the kitchen. "I'll get the bread," he said, before going back inside.

Katniss frowned. He was courteous as ever, but almost _too_ professional. All the familiarity was gone. And he hadn't once looked her in the eye.

When Peeta returned, he was wrapping a loaf up in wax paper. "I hope wheat's okay," he said, eyes intent on his work. "I made too many this morning, so we have extra."

He held out the loaf, smiling. Peeta's gaze settled somewhere to the right of her left shoulder blade. Katniss pursed her lips as she took the bread. This was unacceptable.

Holding out the squirrel, she stared straight at him. Once he reached out to take it from her, she wouldn't let go.

"Peeta."

He hesitated for an instant, but finally raised his eyes to meet hers. A pang shot through her when she saw the apprehension in his expression.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said with emphasis. Katniss made sure to hold his gaze for a moment, quirking her lips into a reassuring smile.

She was rewarded when the worry in his face morph to relief. Peeta's resulting smile was tentative, but grateful. "Have a good day, Katniss."

She nodded and turned to leave. Maybe they could just leave it at that.

* * *

By the time the next Sunday rolled around, Katniss felt that the dynamic between she and Peeta had been pretty well restored. Today would be the test, however. It was the first time they'd be retracing their steps from the week before.

She'd gone to the shack early, worried he wouldn't show, but Peeta had appeared as promptly as ever, looking incredibly relieved to see her waiting. Katniss felt the same. Though there was an air of shyness about him, Peeta was clearly eager to reestablish their easy demeanor. After silence reigned for several minutes and Katniss admonished herself for neglecting to think of conversation topics beforehand, he heaved a frustrated sigh, and just started talking.

He started with inconsequential details about his week, which then graduated to stilted small talk between them, as he drew her out gradually with questions that couldn't possibly matter. Soon, Katniss was telling Peeta about how Lady managed to spook Buttercup during the morning milking, and how sourly Prim scowled when she discovered Katniss rewarding the goat with some of her own breakfast. Peeta laughed and Katniss was inordinately pleased that she'd managed to amuse him. Watching his face, she felt a wave of gratitude sweep over her. He was here and clearly determined not to harry her in any way. His unspoken acceptance of her reaction, without plaguing her for an explanation, meant the world to her.

And yet, Katniss wasn't content pretending it never happened, either. They hadn't discussed the events of last Sunday, only plowed onward as if it hadn't occurred. Normally, she would be striving to just let things be, but where Peeta was concerned, it felt wrong to leave an unanswered question hanging in the air between them.

But she found the situation was already decided for her - it was impossible for things to stay the same. Peeta tried admirably of course, keeping an interesting if harmless, upbeat discussion going, but that was the problem. Katniss got caught up in his speech. Time and again, she found herself watching him speak, diverted by the way his lips moved to form words or shifted into easy smiles. Even when _she_ was talking, his lips would quirk in amusement before fitting into an encouraging grin, or the corner of his mouth would curl indulgently at her jokes. It became maddening.

Katniss vowed to overcome her distraction the next Sunday, but things were no different then. If anything, they were worse. She caught herself wondering what it would have felt like, kissing him. Wondering if it would have been nice enough to bear repeating. Given it was _Peeta -_ good, kind Peeta - she suspected it would have been more than pleasant.

If she hadn't turned at the last minute, had accepted his kiss, would Peeta have greeted her with one at the beginning of each walk? Or would one be given in parting as evening fell? How many times would Katniss have kissed him by now?

As the weeks passed, Katniss fought against her curiosity as tenaciously as she could. But once the idea of kissing Peeta was in her head, there was no getting it out. Catching Prim and Rory kissing out by the goat pen a month and a half after the incident with Peeta hadn't helped.

Soon, her eyes were flitting over to Peeta twice as often in speculation, studying the shape of his mouth as they walked. Katniss could still remember the feel of his lips against her cheek, and she knew a kiss from Peeta would be soft. From the hand she held in her own, Katniss tried to imagine its warmth.

Thoughts of Peeta's mouth pressed against hers, his lips smoothing across her own, had her half-listening during their evenings. She felt sick with indecision about the whole situation, because despite years of firm resolve, Katniss found the pull between them incredibly tempting.

No matter how furiously she tried to silence the direction of thoughts, it didn't work. Katniss struggled to accept what she'd suspected for weeks: that in turning down Peeta's kiss, she'd doomed her treacherous mind to thinking of nothing else.

* * *

When the week of Gale's toasting arrived, Katniss felt almost relieved. Spending a Sunday away from Peeta and her infuriating thoughts would probably be for the best.

All the Everdeens were going, and Katniss couldn't help but wonder if the invitation, delivered verbally by Rory, had been from the Hawthorne family as a whole, or from Gale himself. It was a given that they'd attend. Her mother and Hazelle had become friendly during all the years Katniss was close with Gale. And now Rory and Prim were…involved.

Katniss hoped that it had ultimately been Gale's invitation. She wanted things to be alright between them again.

Guests would be bringing what little food they could, the availability of refreshment of any kind was not guaranteed. Katniss had picked every single edible berry she could find in the woods over the past week. She thought they'd do nicely as a sweet treat that could easily be divided among the attendees, since there would be no cake.

Using the plant book for reference, Prim folded some beautiful paper flowers out of old notes from her History of Panem class. With wire from Katniss' hunting supplies, she strung them together in a little garland, and brought them to Hazelle to place over the doorway where Gale and Leevy would exit the house as man and wife.

The night before the event, Katniss caught her mother pouring a concoction into some bottles. Katniss suspected it was derived from wild carrot seeds, and almost told her not to bother - Gale had told her himself that he and Leevy wanted children right away. Explaining how she knew such a thing was simply too embarrassing, however, so Katniss kept silent.

The morning of toasting dawned, as bright and beautiful as any other in May. Prim was practically bouncing off the walls in excitement hours before the event. She went and checked on the state of her garland at least three times before Rory invited her to come with him to buy the freshest loaf of soft, white bread they could find at the bakery.

Katniss transferred all the berries to the biggest basket they owned, then put on the blue dress she'd worn to her past Reapings. Having not grown or gained weight over the past few years, it still fit her as well as it ever had. Though Katniss had always associated it with the dreaded ceremony, she supposed the dress couldn't be _so_ bad, considering it got her through seven Reapings unscathed. Maybe it was time to attach some pleasant memories to the faded bit of blue fabric.

Once on, Katniss looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall. The dress made her eyes look almost blue. She debated leaving her hair loose, or having her mother fix it, but decided in the end that her regular braid would do just fine.

The event itself was short, but joyful. Between the two families, a small crowd of friends and relatives had gathered to witness Gale and Leevy's joining. Only the couple and their parents were privy to the actual toasting, held in the Hawthorne's modest kitchen, but a boisterous cheer of approval rose up as soon as the newlyweds stepped over the threshold after breaking, warming, and sharing their bread.

All the attendees began to sing the traditional song that accompanied the moment, and several people in front of Katniss turned to glance back at her while she sang. She began to worry that rumor of Gale's previous affections were prompting their curiosity, until Katniss realized it was much more likely that her voice was horribly out of tune, having not sung for years.

Afterwards, Gale and Leevy went around giving hugs and handshakes to their guests. Katniss wasn't sure if she should hang back; it was the first time she'd been around Gale since their fallout in the forest. But Prim launched herself toward them as soon as the couple was within reach, hugging each of them. Once released from the blonde's embrace, Gale turned and gave Katniss a quick hug, then her mother. Leevy did the same, and by the time Katniss had managed to tell the bride she looked beautiful, they were moving on to the next cluster of well-wishers.

When the rounds had been made, Hazelle appeared on the doorstep and announced that she had just enough stew to go around, and if everyone would bring a mug to the meadow, there would be eating and dancing there.

There was a flurry of activity as people departed for their respective houses. A free meal in the Seam was as rare as a merchant tribute, and no one intended to miss it. Any small gift items that the guests had been able to spare, like a pair of socks or errant pieces of crudely fashioned cutlery, were left on the doorstep, and Posy carefully collected them. As Katniss approached with her berries, she saw her mother's bottles had thankfully been wrapped with in a scrap of cloth from their rag pile, concealing the contents.

Posy thanked her sweetly for the berries, before jumping aside as Rory and Vick exited the kitchen lugging an enormous basin. It looked as though one of Hazelle's laundry washtubs had been repurposed for the toasting stew. The Hawthorne matriarch followed behind, shouting frantic instructions for them to slow down, watch the loose stones on the dirt road, and to keep the sides of the tub level. A vessel as large as that must have been heating on their stovetop all night long, Katniss mused.

The extra coal and food required for that single basin of stew had probably taken months of scrimping and sacrificing from every member in the family to afford. They must have been salting and putting aside portions of Gale's Sunday catches for months in preparation. She almost felt guilty at the thought of eating something the Hawthornes had sacrificed so much to provide, but knew Hazelle must be beyond proud to serve food at her eldest son's toasting. Few Seam families could hope to manage such a thing.

Gale had struggled and sacrificed to help keep his family afloat through the years. Katniss was fiercely glad Hazelle had been able to make such a grand gesture for the son who'd been forced to fill his father's shoes so young.

Posy started toward the meadow with a smile, the basket of berries in hand, and Katniss went home to fetch a mug and locate Prim and her mother.

* * *

By the time the Everdeens reached the Meadow, the celebration was well underway. Hazelle presided over the stew, ladling some into every clean mug that came her way. While Katniss got her portion, Greasy Sae was standing next to Hazelle, raising a spoon to her thin, smiling lips. The wizened old woman complimented Hazelle on its flavor and heartiness, and the Seam laundress fairly glowed with pride. Katniss turned away with a smile.

She and Prim ate in a patch of clover, and watched as the children nearby strung daisy chains or ran about playing tag, lips darkened with berry juice. For a bittersweet moment, Katniss glimpsed a young girl peeking out from behind the honeysuckle bush, hiding from whomever was "it."

As with every Seam gathering, Katniss kept her eye out for the two little urchins that had gone begging at Peeta's door, but it was as if they had simply disappeared from the district. She stared down into her empty mug sadly. That usually meant one thing. Tragic, but not uncommon in Twelve.

Her sad reflections were interrupted by the three Seam residents who owned instruments settling on chairs from the Hawthorne kitchen and getting ready to play.

Being the first Seam toasting of the year, the musicians would have recently taken the pieces out of hiding, dusted them off, and tuned them up. While the possession of a musical instrument was not explicitly forbidden in Twelve, not like her father's bow, they were considered relics of the Dark Days, or replicas thereof, and extremely rare. A truly obedient citizen of Panem would not own such a thing in observance of the Treaty of Treason. Conversely, they were curios, ones that could fetch a high price out of district, and considered far too tempting to any Peacekeepers who may search a house containing them. They were therefore hidden when not in use, practiced in secret, and saved for important events.

The three players were invited to practically every toasting. The bride or groom's family generally tried to give them a little something for their time, but it was understood that nothing was necessarily expected. Everyone in Twelve needed something to celebrate, and even the poorest families could have an enjoyable, festive toasting.

Her father had been great friends with the three musicians. He too had been a staple at most toastings, singing love ballads and folk favorites for each couple and their guests. The entire Seam had suffered a great loss with his death.

Katniss remembered grumbling as a child when toastings cut into his Sunday evenings at home. He'd just drop a kiss on her nose and tell her to be patient, that someday it would be _her_ toasting he was singing at, and then she wouldn't mind so much.

She felt a painful lump in her throat at the memory. He would never be at her toasting. It was almost a relief she was never going to have one.

Katniss gazed across the Meadow, and her eyes were immediately drawn to her mother. Mrs. Everdeen's coloring made her stand out. The only other person there without dark hair and olive skin was Prim, sitting at her side.

Mrs. Everdeen was chatting with Hazelle, and Katniss wondered, for the first time, what it had been like being left alone in the Seam, looking merchant. Had it been an issue, after her Seam husband was gone? Or had her reception been the same as before?

If it had been the other way around, if their family had lived in town and the surviving parent was Seam, Katniss felt sure they'd have been chased out at the first opportunity.

Just then, the music started up and Katniss was distracted as a gaggle of girls came over to compliment Prim on her garland. Prim was clearly ecstatic, and the cluster of young women soon drew some young men, looking for a dance. Katniss was just able to squeeze out of the tangle of Seam teens, and she strolled through the Meadow, walking by small groups of people watching the dancing.

Walking by the spot where she usually crawled under the fence, Katniss found herself wishing she could sneak into the woods right then. She was in a reflective mood, and she'd never been one for spending lots of time with a big group of people.

A few hours later, night had fallen and the dancing was still going strong, though the players had to be ready to wind down soon. Katniss had taken part in a few dances, first with Prim and then with Thom, who'd asked her. Though there had been a moment during the second dance when Gale and she were partnered, it seemed Gale only had eyes for Leevy, and Katniss wondered hopefully whether he'd managed to master his feelings.

There was a full moon out, and lightning bugs could be seen drifting at the edge of the forest. A few traversed the periphery of the meadow. It was a beautiful scene, if one could forget the electrical fence bisecting it.

Peeta would want to paint it. As soon as she entertained thoughts of him, Katniss wondered what he was doing, missing him. If it had been a normal Sunday, they would have finished walking a few hours earlier.

Wanting to be alone now more than ever, Katniss decided to leave. Prim had disappeared somewhere with Rory ages ago, a fact which Katniss had tried valiantly not to notice. By the time she'd walked from the meadow, Katniss decided to stroll to their meeting place by the shack. Peeta wouldn't be there, he knew she wasn't available this Sunday. Bakers probably went to bed around now anyway.

Something was gnawing at her, and she wasn't ready to sleep just yet. She just wanted to sit, stare at the moon, and think.

But to her surprise, when she approached the shack, Peeta was there, sitting on a section of sagging porch railing that hadn't rotted yet. He was looking up to the sky, hair a pale silver in the moonlight.

His presence puzzled her, so she moved forward. "What are you doing here?" she asked, and Peeta jolted in surprise.

"Oh! Katniss. I didn't hear you there." He shrugged at her question. "Everyone at home expects me to be out on Sunday evenings, and it's become a big guessing game between them as to why, so I figured I might as well hold with tradition and come out tonight to throw them off a little."

"And you've been here all night?" she asked.

"I walked around a bit, but when it started getting dark, I decided to stay out looking at the stars. Except it was too bright in Town with the electric lights, so I came here.

"How was the toasting?" he asked, noticing her dress.

"It was great. One of the best I've been to. Everyone had a great time," Katniss said, smiling. It had been. She'd enjoyed herself.

"Were you finding the constellations?" she asked, settling beside him on the old wooden railing.

"The what?"

"The constellations. You know, the shapes in the stars." At his uncomprehending look, she explained.

"If you connect certain stars in your mind, they form shapes that symbolize things. People, animals, objects. Some have old stories attached to them. No one ever showed them to you?" she asked in surprise.

Peeta shook his head. "I'm pretty sure no one in my family knows anything about constellations. But I'd love it if you told me," he said, shifting to look further back. "Which stars?"

Katniss smiled and raised her eyes to the twinkling canopy above. "Well, some you can't see if it isn't the right season. They move across the sky through the year. My favorite, for instance, is the hunter. He wears a belt and carries a bow, but you can only see him in winter.

"My father showed him to me, in case I ever got lost in the woods until night fell. You can always find north if you form an arrow out of the stars in his belt and leg."

Katniss closed her eyes in recollection. "After he died, I used to tell Prim it was Dad watching over us up there, making sure we got through the toughest months. She'd get so upset when he disappeared come spring. I said it was because he knew we were going to be okay through spring and summer. I haven't thought of that for years."

When she opened her eyes in the resulting silence, Peeta was looking at her softly. "You're wonderful, you know that?"

Katniss rolled her eyes and shrugged a shoulder noncommittally, but Peeta reached over to playfully tug on a lock of hair that had loosened from her braid, as if doing so emphasized his point. "It's true." When retracting his hand, the tip of his thumb brushed along her ear. Katniss shivered in the warm spring air.

"He taught me lots of them," she continued, clearing her throat and trying to focus. " Pick a star, I'll tell you if it's part of one I know."

"How about that box there?"

"That's a bear. The big mother bear." She took his wrist and raised his arm, guiding his fingers as he traced the stars. "See how it tapers to the head? And there are its legs, and those three at the end make the tail.

"When I was little, I was convinced it looked more like Greasy Sae's soup ladle than a bear, but my father insisted on his version," she recalled with a smile.

"There's a way to find the north star by finding her. If you follow two of her stars," Katniss swept her pointer finger in the correct direction, and Peeta leaned closer to see from her perspective, "you'll find another box, smaller and dimmer. That's her cub.

The last star on its tail is the North Star," Katniss said. "It never moves from due north, which is indispensable for navigation."

She turned to see Peeta's reaction, proud she'd remembered all her father had taught her, but she hadn't realized how close they'd gotten. Her gaze inevitably slid down to glance at his lips, and her own parted at the sight. It felt as though the air was suddenly charged, and _not_ leaning in toward him seemed suddenly impossible. Caught in the thrill of the moment, Katniss unthinkingly closed her eyes and tilted her face up toward Peeta's.

She caught him by surprise, and for a second or two, he hesitated. It proved long enough for all the reasons she decided never to behave this way to come rushing back. Her eyes popped open, and she drew away.

They stared at one another. He looked hopeful, while she looked mildly alarmed.

"Katniss-" he barely breathed. But she wasn't listening.

Instead, she was recriminating herself for her lapse in judgement. That it had fallen to Peeta to remind her of the decisions she made, after years of decisively sticking by her choices, left her mortified. She must look fickle and confused.

She jumped up, intent on returning home as soon as possible. Better to suffer her embarrassment in peace. But Peeta's hand darted to hers and tugged her back down beside him.

"Don't be like that," he beseeched her, his voice placating. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Obviously I'd be more than happy to kiss you, if you'd like." His mouth curved at the idea. "But I'll also be happy to just sit here next to you. You don't have to hurry to decide. I'm here, whatever the answer."

Her cheeks were crimson. Katniss thought she wasn't ready to acknowledge that shifts in the nature of their friendship had been occurring. But her actions a moment ago indicated otherwise, and apparently Peeta was intent on addressing them.

"What if," she suggested hesitantly, "I decide I never want that?"

Katniss knew it was what she _should_ decide, and she should be making pains to establish that with him right now. But she couldn't quite bear to renounce the possibility. Even suggesting it to him left her feeling agitated and worrisome.

Peeta held her gaze earnestly. "Then that's fine. Nothing needs to change Katniss. I'm happy having a place in your life."

Katniss shook her head to herself. He might say that, and even believe that, for some unfathomable reason, but he would get bored, or impatient, or restless. Hadn't Gale?

"But sticking around when nothing will happen, won't that be wasting your time?" she asked. "It could keep you from doing important things…" _Like spending time with other women_ , she thought sourly, feeling out of sorts with the District as a whole.

"These are important years." Katniss kicked at a rock beneath her shoe. "Or so I'm told," she grumbled.

The edges of Peeta's lips curled further into a reassuring smile. "In the entirety of Panem, Katniss, there's nowhere I'd rather be. And that's not going to change."

Pretty phrases and sweeping statements didn't hold much water with Katniss. She knew that for someone like Peeta, words came easily, and they carried no cost or risk. A person couldn't count on words.

But looking at his expression, he looked so _sure_ of what he said, and even she had noticed his contentedness during their walks. Peeta always seemed eager and pleased to see her, no matter what had been going on in his own life. Putting his words aside, Peeta's behavior from the start made quite an argument for the truth in his statement.

She gave him a slow smile in return, and made a point of looking around at the sagging porch, patchy walls, and rotted sections of the railing they sat on, before commenting on his statement.

"You have strange taste in surroundings, Peeta Mellark."

"But excellent taste in company," he quipped, before schooling his expression.

"I'm completely serious, Katniss. I'm not going anywhere for any reason." Peeta slanted his eyes in her direction. "Unless you want me to," he added warily.

Katniss shook her head. "I'd be afraid to see what sort of dismal ruin you'd end up in next. Best you stick to this one, so I know where to find you," she teased.

They contemplated the night in pleased silence for a few moments. Katniss pursed her lips, trying to contain her pleased grin. He was staying with her.

"So. Was there anything else about the mother and cub constellations I should know?" Peeta asked.

"Not really. But speaking of bears, did I ever tell you about the time I was chased by one?"

"No, but it sounds fascinating," Peeta answered with interest.

* * *

On her way home, Katniss marveled that she could remain undecided about the extent of her closeness with Peeta, but not be made to feel ill at ease or pressured. No matter what she did or didn't decide, Peeta had promised his support and friendship.

It seemed he had no interest in trying to make her feel guilty, or accusing her of toying with his affections. There was no resentment, and no impatience, only willing acceptance of whatever she felt able to give him. It felt…freeing.

It was with this feeling of lightness that Katniss finally crawled into bed beside Prim, but she didn't sleep immediately. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts of Peeta. He was so different, and those qualities and the effect they had on her were getting harder to ignore. There were the unexpected ways he cheered her up, the fact that his very presence brightened her days, and the miraculous way he somehow managed to make her forget that District Twelve was a miserable place.

Faced with his unflagging kindness and hopeful optimism, the world somehow opened up to show a softness she'd never guessed at when he was with her, one she couldn't find on her own. The fact was, Peeta made everything about her life feel more possible. Was that an effect he had on everyone, or one she'd created in her own mind? Katniss wasn't sure it mattered. She doubted she'd ever find anything as rare, or so out of place in Panem, as Peeta Mellark. He was precious to her.

When her eyelids finally drifted down, she dreamed of dandelions.

* * *

Katniss didn't sleep long. Despite the few hours of rest she'd gotten, she was wide awake and consumed with an energetic sort of restlessness before dawn. There was something she needed to do, and Katniss felt it right down to the marrow in her bones. She was jittery with anticipation, and knew that no matter what she decided to do with her morning, there was exactly one place she would end up.

As she laced up her hunting boots, her mind raced with snatches of thoughts. A kiss didn't have to be a promise. It wasn't a toasting, and it didn't mean children.

A kiss could merely be an expression of appreciation and admiration. It could be a confirmation of wanting to be near someone, or a physical demonstration of attraction. It could be for its own sake alone.

He meant something, he was worth so much. Katniss thought it unlikely he knew how unique he truly was. She also doubted anyone had tried to make him see it, so he ought to at least know that he was special to her. That all the parts of him appealed to all the sides of her.

Somehow, she'd already left her house. She was already halfway out of the seam, and her boots had already become wet with dew as she ran.

Katniss was breathless when she reached the bakery, and wondered if it was just because she'd run all the way there, or because she was also excited and terrified.

She stood in the same spot as when she'd brought him dandelions. Just like that morning, the kitchen window glowed with warmth, as if beckoning to her. Katniss was again watching the family at breakfast, but this time, there was no mention of scraps for the pigs. When they finished eating soon thereafter, the Mellarks all rose to fulfill their various roles, and Katniss was happy to see Peeta remain in the kitchen while his mother went upstairs, and his older brother and father opened up out front.

She stepped forward boldly, though she had to clench her hands to keep them from shaking due to nerves. Standing on the back stoop she'd frequented almost daily for so long, Katniss felt like she was exploring new territory, as unknown as the lands beyond her stretch of forest.

As first light began to spill over the rolling mountains that surrounded Twelve, Katniss rapped briskly on the bakery's back door. After a moment, it swung open to reveal Peeta, standing alone in the kitchen and holding a half-unfolded apron. She reached up, balancing on the balls of her feet, wrapped her arms around the warm breadth of his shoulders, and kissed him soundly.

The apron fluttered to the ground as Peeta kissed her back, sweeping his arms around her and tightened their embrace. He drew her up onto her toes, and she leaned fully into him. He ran his hands across the planes of her shoulders and back, over the muscles subtly steeled by years of archery, just discernible beneath her shirt.

Katniss pressed forward, wanting to somehow feel that quality that existed in his words, and smiles, and laughter. She wanted to taste the kindness of his discourse and map the way goodness had shaped the contours of his smile. She wanted to chase those remnants of moments when he'd stopped laughing, but one final chuckle balanced precariously on his lips. And a million other similar instances.

She felt his hands in her hair, threading into her braid and cradling her head as he helped to direct the movement of the kiss. The trailing of his fingers through the strands sent shivers skittering along her spine, to disperse to the rest of her body. Katniss sighed blissfully into his mouth at the sensation.

Her own fingers snuck up and wove themselves through his curls, nails scoring over his scalp to make him tremble with her.

When Katniss felt like she couldn't get any closer without fusing permanently to him, couldn't meld her lips with his for a moment longer without doing something wildly reckless to accompany it, she pried herself from his arms and stepped shakily off the stoop.

"Okay," she gasped, replenishing the oxygen she'd denied herself in the last few moments. "Great," she affirmed, nodding as she gathered herself. "See you later."

As Katniss dashed off to collect her hunting coat and game bag for the morning, Peeta stood on the threshold and laughed in delighted disbelief at what had just occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Oh goodness, I hope this lived up to the looooong wait, for which I am so sorry, my lovely readers! A bunch of RL things, both good and bad, demanded attention and I fell quite behind. I meant to get a little further along in this chapter, but Gale's toasting became a bigger event than I'd expected. But this seemed like a fun stopping place. ;) I want to offer a very heartfelt thank you all for your continued support and interest in the story, it means so much to me. You guys are the best!
> 
> In case I didn't make it apparent which constellations Katniss referred to, her favorite was Orion the hunter, and Peeta asked about Ursa Major, the bear constellation, which is also known as the Big Dipper. That led to Katniss showing him Ursa Minor, known as both a smaller bear or the Little Dipper. Her claims as far as navigation are sound, and while I feel some of the lore and practical application surrounding the stars would survive the Dark Days, retold in secret from generation to generation in certain families, I feel the current names for the constellations would have suffered, in that it is easier to keep something secret by not naming it, and even if they were named, an adult may forget the title he'd heard as a child, and have no way to check or look it up once forgotten. Therefore, Katniss only knows them as the hunter, the mother bear, and the cub.
> 
> When rechecking my spotty astronomical recollections, I used the site Space dot com, which was great fun. Did you know that different stars have been the North Star, through history? I had no idea. As the Earth's axis "wobbles" over time different stars are given the distinction of true north. And our current north star, Polaris, is a more accurate directional indicator than a compass! Neat.
> 
> I am Ghtlovesthg on tumblr, if you'd like to chat or say hi! I sometimes post snippets of chapters. Do stop by! :)


	6. Sweep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this took so long, lovely readers. This one was a beast to write, and I think it's always going to feel a bit unfinished. But hopefully it will suit. I will be going back to tidy up some past chapters and clean up inconsistencies there in the next few days. This chapter actually merits the M rating.
> 
> I do not own the Hunger Games.
> 
> My beta, The RPGenius, is a gosh darn saint, who jumped right into editing this and turned in around in record time, after weeks of slaving over multiple grad school final projects. To borrow a line from Brooklyn 99, you are the champagne of friends.
> 
> (Forget where we left off? I would too! After much temptation and fixation when it came to the subject of kissing Peeta, Katniss finally decided to do just that, and planted one on him right on the bakery's doorstep, bright and early on a Monday morning.)

Katniss was consumed by blushes while hunting that day. For the rest of the week, she and Peeta traded fleeting glances and secret smiles with every squirrel and loaf of bread that passed over the threshold. Even so, Katniss couldn't quite decide whether she could hardly wait to see him again, or if she'd really rather hide under that availing honeysuckle bush in the meadow, as she had in her childhood.

It felt like the week was racing by one moment, and standing still the next. Despite her jittery nerves, Katniss managed to make it to their meeting place. At first, it seemed as though nothing had changed. Peeta was circumspect and subdued in his greeting, so Katniss took her cues from him. They walked out of the Seam sedately. It was only once they'd reached the fringes of the abandoned coal warehouses, the ones a ways past the Hob, that Peeta tugged on her hand and led her into the nearest narrow alleyway, bracketed on each side by the rusting corrugated metal of the warehouse walls.

There, Peeta cupped her cheeks with his warm palms, and they shared a giddy look before their lips met in a kiss.

And then, they were everywhere. The hands that gently cradled her jaw line soon found their way to her back, before looping themselves around her waist as they both pressed closer together. Her hands, which had begun by resting lightly on the breadth of his chest, wound up clutching his shoulders, then sliding blissfully into the waves of his hair.

Katniss couldn't say how long they remained there, only that eventually the need for oxygen became too strong, and they were forced to part.

Peeta was grinning like a loon, and staring at her reddened lips as though he'd very much like to renew their acquaintance, after only a moment's separation. His obvious appreciation had her beaming right back.

He stepped back toward her, but paused. "That was okay?" he checked, breathlessly. At her emphatic nod, he swept Katniss back into his arms and kissed her senseless once more.

* * *

It was shocking, how easy it was for Katniss to fall into a routine that was wholly alien to her. Her mornings were spent anticipating the afternoon's trade, and she took to lingering at the bakery's back door afterward. Katniss was loathe to call what they were doing _flirting_ , as she felt certain she would never behave so frivolously. The applicable term for their banter just hadn't come to her yet.

At any rate, every week became a long wait until she and Peeta could steal away into unseen nooks and niches, to kiss without worry of discovery. It was almost a game between them now, finding the new little hideaways all over Twelve to shield their embraces from a disapproving District.

On Sunday nights, when she'd returned to the Seam, Katniss would sink onto a chair by the fire, pleased and content. She didn't even mind Buttercup lounging at her side on those nights, the fuzzball smug and sated as well, after getting his fill of entrails.

One night, Prim came to join her with some knitting in hand, and stopped to look between the two. "Which one of you wants to play with the yarn?" she teased. "You both look like you got the canary."

Katniss managed to summon a grimace and grumbled at being compared to the mangy cat, but Prim merely looked at her with interest. "You've been in an awfully good mood lately. _Uncommonly_ good," the younger girl said, arching an eyebrow.

"Why do your statements sound like questions?" Katniss countered.

Prim shrugged. "Keep your secrets, then. If you think you _can_. I'll know soon enough, I'm sure."

Watching Prim sit by the fire, Katniss noticed her sister sporting something new on her wrist. "What's that?" she asked, motioning toward the woven strips of rawhide fashioned into a bracelet around Prim's delicate wrist.

"You think I'm going to tell you?" Prim scoffed. "You know the basics of a fair trade - you have to give something to get something. So spill."

Katniss folded her arms, visibly closing herself off from the conversation.

"Well, then," Prim replied serenely, before turning to her knitting.

Katniss pursed her lips, resolute. No one was going to find out about she and Peeta, especially when things between them were so new and fragile. Not even Prim.

* * *

Since her father had died, Katniss had always been cautious, and always expected the worst. Self-indulgence and the pursuit of pleasure for its own sake had never been things she'd allowed herself. She hadn't even granted herself the luxury of missing them.

But with the change between she and Peeta, it was like the desire for all those experiences had been set free, and suddenly, Katniss had found something she was unwilling to deny herself. It felt reckless, it felt risky, and it felt liberating. Every second with Peeta was heady and exciting, and she'd never experienced something so potent before. Katniss couldn't help but want more of it, as often as possible.

She frequently reminded herself that the connection between them cost nothing, and hurt no one. The necessary secrecy surrounding it suited her preferences for privacy, and there seemed to be no limit to the feelings of contentment and enjoyment their activities engendered. For all the times Katniss and Peeta had innocently explored each other, nothing had lessened. Instead, the exhilaration and sensation between them had only grown, until she suspected it to be boundless. In short, Katniss found it perfect.

Her behavior would have mortified her a few months ago, but she didn't spare it a thought. She would have been horrified to see herself laying her affections bare before another and exposing weakness. She wouldn't have made any allowances for how happiness could change a person, either, tempting them to make themselves vulnerable, for the sake of welcoming hope back into their life. She would only have insisted that with such behavior, one was opening the door for a very rude awakening.

Whenever old thoughts like that trickled into her mind, Katniss pushed them back out, intent on simply enjoying her time with him. She tried not to ask herself exactly what she felt for Peeta, or where she thought they were headed, because she had no answers. The only thing Katniss knew was that she liked _now_.

* * *

It was with these thoughts that she strolled to the bakery's back door one afternoon, swinging her half-empty game bag and humming. With a quick check through the kitchen window, ascertaining that it was just Peeta inside, and not his shrew of a mother, Katniss hopped onto the doorstep and knocked.

Once he'd opened the door, Katniss was puzzled to see the smile disappear from his face when she drew the standard squirrel out of her game bag.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. We've raised our prices on bread loaves," he said regretfully.

"What?" she spluttered, barely concealing her indignation. Was the bakery having financial trouble? Why hadn't Peeta mentioned anything? A price hike was unfair, how would she continue trading with them?

He glanced quickly behind himself before leaning closer. "It's a squirrel, _and_ a kiss," he stated solemnly. Attuned to detecting the slightest of motions from her years of hunting, Katniss noticed the corner of his mouth briefly twitch upwards before being forced back down.

Katniss crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, trying to look upset, or at least the tiniest bit put out at being misled. She failed on all counts.

Kissing Peeta on the bakery doorstep in broad daylight, even if it was just a brief peck, was a bad idea, and Katniss knew she should refuse. But he looked so appealing, and happy, and they were having _fun_. In _Twelve,_ no less. She decided instead to play along.

"I think I'd like to lock in that price, Mr. Mellark. I hesitate to think where inflation might lead…" she deadpanned.

Peeta laughed appreciatively at her joke before glancing once more into the kitchen behind, confirming no one was about, before leaning in and sealing his mouth against hers.

It was a scant few seconds of bliss before they parted, but it would keep her until Sunday.

"Was it worth the expense?" he joked when they'd separated, exchanging a bread loaf for her squirrel.

"I'd say your prices are more than fair," Katniss smirked. "Just be sure none of your brothers try to trade me bread."

Peeta was still chuckling when she left.

* * *

That Saturday, Katniss returned from hunting to find Leevy sitting with Prim in their kitchen. The two were deep in conversation, and Prim was sealing up several packets of herbs as they talked. "Red raspberry tea is very helpful, and you can't go wrong with nettle or red clover," the blonde Everdeen explained.

Leevy nodded, listening intently, before turning towards Katniss. Since her toasting, the new Mrs. Hawthorne always went out of her way to be friendly to Katniss, and the Seam huntress strove to be equally warm in their dealings.

After exchanging pleasantries, Katniss offered her some of the summer blackberries she'd returned with, but the recent bride declined.

"I was just getting some advice from Prim," she explained. "You've got the sweetest, smartest sister there is, Katniss."

Katniss beamed and nodded her agreement. "I do."

Leevy stood to leave, but not before laying her hand gratefully over Prim's. "We'd be awfully lucky to have someone like you in our family, Primmy," she said with a wink. "Thanks again!" And with that, she gathered up the sachets of herbs and departed.

Katniss turned to the cupboard, restocking their supplies with what she'd gathered for the day. Prim stayed at the table, thoughtful.

"Leevy was wondering about herbs for fertility," Prim volunteered. Katniss knew the importance of confidentiality in her mother and sister's work, so she hadn't asked. However, it was impossible not to have picked some knowledge up over the years, so Katniss had suspected as much after hearing the herbs mentioned.

"Makes sense," Katniss replied

Prim stared off into the distance dreamily. "Can you just imagine, Katniss? Having a baby around?"

She shrugged, determined to downplay the appeal. "I guess. Sounds loud. And smelly."

But Prim didn't even hear her, lost in her own thoughts. "And being just toasted…it's so romantic," she sighed.

Katniss turned to watch Prim in amusement. Her sister was lost in a little world all her own.

"Sometimes Rory and I visit them at their new house after school. Leevy's got everything set out so nicely, and they're so sweet with each other. Rory would be like that too."

At this point, Prim was staring at the braided bracelet on her wrist with a soft, knowing smile, twirling it around and around. Katniss narrowed her eyes as something clicked into place.

At the exact moment realization hit her, Prim looked up abruptly, a remorseful expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, Katniss! I didn't mean to ramble about Gale and Leevy - I know that's kind of an awkward subject."

Katniss shook off her concerns, intent on confirming her suspicion. "I'm happy for them, it's fine," she dismissed. "Prim, what _is_ that bracelet?"

The younger girl's eyes widened and her cheeks pinkened, and Katniss knew before she said it.

"It's- it's from Rory," Prim amitted. "And it's-

"-some sort of promise bracelet," Katniss finished.

Prim bit her lip and nodded, nervous and proud, all at once.

"I wasn't sure if I should tell you. I know you're not a big fan of change…" she trailed off.

Katniss took a deep breath. "No, this is _wonderful_ news. Congratulations, Little Duck. You must be so happy."

Prim was suddenly shining brighter than the sun itself, and she bounded out of her chair to hug Katniss tightly.

"Oh, Katniss, I am! I can't believe it's really going to happen! We're going to toast right after my last Reaping next May!

Katniss felt faint. Things were moving _very_ fast. Prim had just turned seventeen last month. Her final reaping was just under a year away. She couldn't _wait_ for the day to arrive and pass, for it meant Prim was safe from the Games forever. But to lose her Little Duck right after? Katniss hugged Prim tighter.

"I was so worried what you'd think," Prim admitted. "I know it must be a surprise, but it means everything to me that you can see how happy I am with Rory." She sighed blissfully into the embrace before stepping back.

"I've got to tell Rory that you know, and that you're fine with it!" she exclaimed. "He's been expecting arrows to be whizzing at his head for weeks!"

Katniss mustered a chuckle, and raised her game bag. "I've got to skin these out back, so you go ahead."

Once Prim left, Katniss sat on a stump behind their little house. She was a little hurt Prim had hidden the news from her, but she couldn't pretend she didn't understand why.

Katniss sighed as she removed the squirrels and rabbit from her bag. She was happy for Prim. Truly. Her sister deserved every good thing the world had left to offer. But it was very difficult not to let her own fears regarding attachments and children seep into the way she looked at Prim's future plans. Apparently her sister had fewer reservations than she did. Was that a good thing? Katniss didn't know.

She did know that life would be getting very different soon. For Prim's sake, she tried to look at it as a happy development.

Staring at the roughhewn slats on the back of the neighboring Seam shacks, Katniss considered the standard living accommodations allotted to every couple with at least one work contract in the mines. Prim and Rory would have one of their own. She sat there pensively for some time, with only the squirrels and rabbit in her game bag for company.

* * *

The next day was Sunday, and Katniss waited patiently until late afternoon to meet Peeta. With the longer summer days, they could enjoy extended walks, but there was more chance of running into the odd person making the most of the extra daylight.

Peeta could tell something was bothering her, and he squeezed her hand as they set out. But as the time ticked by, Katniss remained subdued, and nothing about the cause for her current mood was forthcoming.

Peeta kept an eye out for a place where she might feel more comfortable talking. Though they always met at the abandoned shack between Town and Seam, they'd never gone inside - the door had fallen in on itself, and the sagging beams didn't quite look safe. And though they knew of little alcoves and nooks all along the outskirts of Twelve, none were the sort of place for stopping and talking in private.

Passing by the row of unused coal warehouses farthest from the Hob, Peeta spied a potential place. The lock had completely rusted through on one of the massive metal doors, and in an impressive feat of strength, he was able to push it just far enough to create a space they could squeeze through.

The air inside the warehouse was stale, and everything was stained black with old coal dust. It had settled out of the air and onto the walls and floor long ago, and golden rays of light were able to pierce the darkness through the small, dingy slatted windows high on the wall. Everything was eerily still, and completely silent. Most importantly, it was well out of the way of anyone out enjoying the warm weather.

Overturning a massive, empty crate, and dusting it off with a handkerchief, Peeta created a place to sit, and then gestured Katniss over. She sank down beside him, and he threaded his fingers through hers.

"Tell me what's the matter," he implored.

Her shoulders slumped and she scuffed her hunting boot along the floor, not meeting his eyes.

"Prim's as good as engaged," she revealed.

"Wow."

"Yeah. I know I should be happy for her, and I am, but I'm just….sad, too. I know that makes me a horrible sister," she blurted fretfully.

Peeta wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she closed her eyes against the welcome feeling of comfort that accompanied it. She didn't deserve it.

"Katniss, you know nothing could be further from the truth. Tell me why you're upset."

She furrowed her brows as she explained. "Of course this was going to happen eventually. I've only ever wanted Prim to be able to live whatever life she wanted. It just hurts that the moment she's free of the Games, she'll be slipping away.

"I guess I always hoped and assumed we would have a little time of finally being _free_ from everything that had threatened us, of being okay despite the odds, before she left me behind," Katniss finished quietly.

"Where is it that you think she's going?" Peeta asked gently. "Where is this unreachable place in District Twelve?"

Katniss looked up at him questioningly.

"She'll still be right there with you, Katniss. Maybe a couple of houses away."

"It's not the same," she dismissed, and the twinge of petulance in her voice had him holding back a smile.

"It's not," Peeta agreed. "But you seemed to think she'd be happy there."

She nodded, the heartbroken concession in her voice painful to hear. "So happy."

"And what will make you happy?"

Katniss thought for a moment. "Days in the forest. Evenings with my mother and Prim. Sundays with you," she added quietly, peeking at him as she spoke.

Peeta smiled and tightened his arm around her shoulders. "You can still have all those things, Katniss. You'll probably see Prim a little less, or Rory a little more, but Prim will never stop needing you."

He turned to face Katniss, wanting her to see how much he meant what he said, and saw the first spark of hope he'd seen in her eyes all evening.

"She could never 'leave you behind,' because she's going to need you next to her every step of the way. Think of all the changes ahead of her. She'll need your advice and support, because being an adult is nerve-wracking. When something good happens, she's going to want to share it with you, because that will make it twice as special. All the times she'll argue with Rory, and will need a sympathetic ear, who do you think she's going to go to, Katniss? When things get tough, and she gets sick of him for a while, wondering if she can really make it work, you're going to have to be there to remind her of everything else you two have gotten through."

Katniss was looking at him with something akin to awe in her expression. "How do you know all that?" she whispered.

"Well, Ander's been married for a while. He was always so much older than me, that we were never particularly close growing up. But once he got toasted, we got closer. He loves his wife, but sometimes he needs to just be able to feel that simplicity from before, and reminiscing with a younger brother helps, I guess. And once he had a kid, it reminded him of all the times he'd take care of me when I was young."

Katniss listened raptly. Despite all of Peeta's amusing anecdotes, she still knew very little about his family's dynamic or living arrangements.

"Especially with Faren leaving, it brought us a lot closer. It's just us and Dad in the bakery mostly. Mom sometimes. And even though he lives a few streets over, Ander still joins us for breakfast every day before we open. Not everything has to change with a toasting."

"What about Faren?" Katniss asked. It sounded like the middle son _had_ left them behind.

Peeta chuckled. "Faren never wanted to be a baker. We all knew he'd leave the business if he could. He likes to call it 'soft' work, and say it's not exciting enough for him, but baking requires its own kind of strength and finely-honed control, so his complaining never bothered any of us. Faren's fiercely protective, and he knew I loved baking. As a third son, it was probable that I'd have to go elsewhere to support myself. So he apprenticed with the metalworker, and I was able to stay here. I wasn't the only reason he did, but I think that was part of it,"

"Mom wasn't thrilled. I'm not exactly her favorite, and I think she was hoping Faren would stay. But even she can't deny I'm the best cake decorator in the family," Peeta added proudly. "He just told us that he and Lanni, the metalworker's daughter, will be toasting by the end of August."

"He's hasn't toasted yet?" Katniss asked, surprised. Peeta shook his head.

"Faren likes to do things in his own time, and not even my mother can hurry him. He wanted to learn the trade first. No my mother's furious that there's so little time to prepare."

Katniss returned his smile, enjoying the Mellark matriarch's consternation.

"So who knows? Maybe I'll see more of Faren once he's toasted. Lanni will probably chase him over to our place for a few more dinners, is my guess."

"And you think that means it will be the same with Prim?" she asked hopefully.

"I know it will be even _more_ like that with Prim. You two are so close, and you're older. Prim looks up to you, and counts on you more than anyone else. You're her voice of reason."

Katniss let the comfort of his words wash over her. It was an amazing ability, the power he had with them. Nothing could look disheartening for long through his outlook, and he so generously extended it to others with his speech. The way he could transmute the nature of a situation, or transform her way of looking at things, was as amazing to Katniss as her prowess with a bow was to others.

"If she has children, you'll probably be her touchstone to sanity as well," Peeta quipped, the corners of his mouth quirking in jocularity, before his expression sobered once more.

"Do you really think anyone could walk away from you, Katniss?" he asked softly. "That sounds impossible to me."

Instead of smiling back at his attempt to lift her spirits, Katniss tilted her head upwards, and closed her eyes in a wordless request. She felt so happy, and so lucky, that Peeta wanted to spend time with her like this. That he wanted to soothe her hurts.

Peeta leaned over to touch his lips to her own. The movements of his mouth were soft and sweet, but Katniss wanted more.

She snaked her hand up to cradle the back of his head and slant his lips more fully over hers. Peeta groaned in response, and pressed against Katniss more urgently. Her breath quickened in pleasure at the change.

They'd become very familiar with each other's cues over the past weeks, so when

Katniss felt his fingers absently tensing and relaxing on her waist, she knew he wanted more.

Katniss felt the same. She leaned further over and wrapped her arms around his neck. Peeta began to run the palms of his hands along her back and sides in a way that left her shivering. On a few passes, the edge of his thumb just brushed the outer curve of her breast.

Although the contact lasted only seconds, it managed to set Katniss afire. Before she even thought about it, she was scooting over on the crate, shifting to get nearer. When that wasn't enough, she clambered onto his lap. Though surprised to suddenly have his arms even more full of Katniss, Peeta quite happily drew her closer.

And there they stayed. Each time the two of them parted to catch their breath, or switched the angle of the kiss, Katniss felt sure they would pause, finding the hunger between them had been sated. But it never stopped gnawing at her, and each passing moment only fed the flame, until Katniss was positively starving with it.

There was something different this time. She'd certainly never tired of kissing Peeta those before, but their stolen moments had felt nothing like this. Compared to those sweet flickerings of affection between them, this was a conflagration, and as it grew and grew, Katniss wondered if it could ever be quenched. There was something new heightening and deepening between them by the second, and Katniss squirmed closer to Peeta in an effort to catch it.

He abruptly broke the kiss, and angled slightly away from her, panting. "Maybe we should stop,"

"What? Why?" Katniss demanded. Stopping was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I just…need a moment," he said.

Her eyebrows drew together in question. "Did I do something wrong?" she worried aloud.

Peeta barked out a laugh. "Not at all, I assure you."

"Oh. Well, good then." And with that, she moved back toward him, intent on continuing. The only problem was, he leaned still further away.

"But I still need that minute or so," he insisted.

She sighed in acceptance and adjusted her position in his lap, trying to get a little more comfortable. Suddenly, she felt it. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stared down between them, and then all at once, she was scrambling off his legs to sit at his side, blushing hotly.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking everywhere but at him.

Peeta dropped his head at her skittish reaction, chuckling humorlessly. Raisng his eyes back to hers, he scrubbed his hand over his face.

"Katniss, again, you've got nothing to apologize for."

"I wouldn't call it _nothing_ ," she blurted out, before clapping a hand over mouth. Her eyes widened comically in shock.

Peeta burst out laughing, and threw his arm around her as his mirth took its course.

Katniss loved the look of happiness on him, and couldn't resist nuzzling against him as the last of the laughter shook his frame. She feathered little kisses along his jaw line and up to his temple, then brushed her lips against the outside of his ear. Every shaking breath either of them took was distinctly audible, and Katniss was anxious to end her wait.

"How about now?" she asked, pausing in her ministrations.

He shook his head. "Not yet. Not when you do that," he whispered heatedly.

One corner of her mouth dipped into an impatient frown..

Peeta watched her closely, his lips quirking in amusement at her mounting frustration. He took her chin, and slowly brought her lips to his for a unhurried kiss, keeping the nature of it soft and sweet, before drawing apart to lean his forehead against hers.

Katniss slowly blinked her eyes open, and pressed her lips together, savoring the remnants of his kiss. That aching hunger, the kind she'd never known before now, had been quieted somewhat. It was waiting, subdued, and she could feel it smoldering like a slowly-burning fire.

But it was just as well, because the dusk was quickly bleeding into night, and the unused warehouse around them was growing dimmer by the minute. It would be time for her to be getting home soon.

She reluctantly rose. "Thank you for your perspective about Prim, Peeta. It really helped. You're always able to that."

"What?"

"Help. Make things better, even when nothing has changed. I'm not even sure how you do it. But you do."

Peeta stared up at her earnestly. "I hope I always can, Katniss. I'll always try."

* * *

Half a week later, Katniss was ravenous again. She felt like she had to see him, and she'd been dismayed when she hadn't caught any squirrels to trade him that morning. There were three long days until Sunday, and she was so hungry for Peeta, wanting to see him, touch him, just have him fill the space around her, that she was willing to look a little foolish. She couldn't get him off her mind, and it was maddening, like forgetting a word on the tip of one's tongue, and then agonizing over what it was for hours.

Prim and her mother were away on a house call, so she wouldn't have to explain where she was headed. She grabbed her game bag to serve as a flimsy excuse - she usually never traded after dark.

But once she'd reached the bakery, spied a single blond baker puttering in the far end of the kitchen, and knocked, Katniss found herself staring into the wrong pair of blue eyes.

She recognized this brother less, and he was very close to Peeta's build. It had to be Faren, the one getting toasted. Katniss wondered if Peeta was off for the night.

Flustered, she realized she didn't even have anything with her to trade. This was such a bad idea. She mumbled some sort of greeting, but Faren broke in.

"Katniss. I'm glad you're here." She stopped talking abruptly, surprised. "Look, my idiot brother won't listen to a word I say, so maybe you will. Peeta thinks he's all clever with the way he can talk circles around everyone, but he overestimates himself when it comes to our mother. You've got to-"

"Who's that?" A very welcome, familiar voice interrupted. "Katniss?"

She could _hear_ his smile, and blushed at his obviousness in front of Faren. Peeta was pushing his way into view the next moment.

"Evening Everdeen," he greeted, and Faren rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance.

"Um…hi," she said, shooting Peeta a quelling look.

"Just my luck I needed to grab a new icing tip. Is this big oaf bothering you?" Peeta asked, edging his way in front of Faren.

"I was just trying to talk sense into _one_ of you," Faren jabbed.

Peeta was quick to interject. "Well, I'm sorry, but I promised Miss Everdeen I'd make sure she didn't have to trade with riffraff like you, so you'll _just_ have to excuse us-" And with that, Peeta stepped out onto the doorstep with her and pulled the door shut behind him, the sweep dragging along the stone in his haste. From the other side of the wooden barrier, she could hear Faren's aggravated grumbling, and the heavy footfalls that signaled his departure.

"Much better," he grinned. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What was he talking about?" she asked worriedly.

Peeta sighed. "Faren thinks my mother has more eyes and ears out than the Capitol. He's wrong, he's not here enough toknow. She's too busy planning her next fit to notice anything I'm doing," he said resentfully.

Katniss felt her mouth go dry with a terrible thought. "Are you spending time with me to get back at your mother?" she demanded, horrified.

"What? No! Never! Katniss, you can't think that. _Nothing_ could be further from the truth," he rushed to assure her.

Peeta took her hand, and licked his lips, preparing to speak. Then he paused. Looking daunted, he released her hand, then took it up again as he drew a bracing breath and met her eyes.

Katniss waited on tenterhooks for whatever it was he was about to say. He wasn't usually so tongue-tied.

When he finally spoke, it was quietly, but there was conviction underlying it, firm as bedrock. "I've noticed you, thought of you, and cared about you, for most of my life.

"I wasn't going to tell you that for a while. But besides my family, almost my whole understanding of loving another person had its beginnings with you, Katniss. It originally started with the little details I knew from school, or ideas I had from observing the way you fought to raise your sister, but knowing you has only reinforced what I felt and thought.

"So when it comes to how I feel about you, and my relationship with my mother, nothing could be more separate, or more different."

Katniss searched his face, and found nothing but the truth of his words.

"Let me worry about my mother. Faren just likes to pretend he knows what's best for everyone when he visits. Luckily, I'm sure Lanni will cure him of that," Peeta added, smirking. "Now, what brought you here?"

"I, um, I just wanted to see you," Katniss said, distracted by what he'd imparted.

"And I'm not going to let myself feel that way," she blurted. "I told you that. I can't. Or won't." She met his eyes, challenging and apologetic all at once.

"That's okay, Katniss," Peeta answered. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, then trailed his fingers down her arm to thread their hands together.

There was a lot to think about. "I should go," Katniss said after a moment.

Peeta nodded in understanding and squeezed her hand in parting. "Goodnight."

* * *

Katniss had plenty to occupy her mind leading up to their next meeting. Was she shocked by his revelation? Not entirely. Somewhat surprised, yes. Peeta had assured her time and again he would accept what she could offer. Given the duration of his regard for her, and his implication that it had only grown in the recent years, Katniss would normally doubt anyone's ability to wait around with no guarantee of reciprocation. But she believed Peeta when he said he would.

So she felt fortunate. Flattered. Even a little guilty, like she didn't deserve his devotion. But she would gladly accept it, because she cared about him too much not to recognize the worth of what was offered. The knowledge it was there felt like a cherished secret she could carry with her everywhere, hidden safely away where none could take it, but which still somehow shone out of her, plain to see.

The next time they were together, Katniss chose the route they walked, and she tried not to be obvious about the fact that she was directing them back to the warehouse with the broken lock.

She stopped expectantly at the entrance, but Peeta kept walking. Noting his companion had left his side, Peeta turned to look back at her.

"What is it?"

"Well, don't you want to stop here?" Katniss asked, trying not to sound as wildly hopeful as she felt.

"Here?" Peeta looked at the warehouse they'd broken into, the door he'd pushed open that didn't completely close anymore. "Why?"

Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. Katniss hadn't thought she would even need to ask, let alone explain _why_. She'd just assumed he would be as eager as she was to return and continue what they'd started.

At the look on her face, Peeta laughed and tugged her toward him. "I'm only joking, Katniss. Of course I want to stop here."

She elbowed his side playfully as they snuck through the door. The large overturned crate was exactly where they'd left it, and almost as soon as they'd taken a seat, Katniss was back in Peeta's lap, cupping his jaw and kissing him voraciously.

The spark between them flared to life, and Peeta had his hands on her again almost immediately. He rested them on her upper torso, and lightly traced just beneath the curve of her breasts with his thumbs.

Sighing in pleasure, Katniss rolled her shoulders and shifted back minutely, just enough so that the modest swells were cupped in his waiting palms.

Peeta took a sharp breath in surprise, while Katniss moaned in appreciation. It felt amazing. She hummed when Peeta squeezed them gently, rubbing his thumbs against the sensitive peaks that were now discernible through her shirt.

They moved together seamlessly, and like the last time, Katniss became aware of his growing arousal. This time, however, she wasn't content to stop. When Kaniss felt Peeta was about to put some space between them, she curled her fingers around the firm muscle of his upper arms, and pressed closer.

She couldn't give him unconditional declarations, but she could give him this. And she wanted to.

He dropped his hands to hips as she rocked against him fervently, and he tightened his fingers as he pulled his mouth from hers.

"Katniss," he gasped, "you're okay with this?"

Her answer was nothing but a secret smile and the increased tempo of her movements, as the revolutions of her hips became more pronounced. Raising her right hand from his shoulder, she wove her fingers into the waves at the back of his head and brought his mouth back to hers.

In a few moments he broke the kiss again, pressing his face against her neck and taking great, shuddering breaths. By now he was helping to pull her against him, and raising his hips in counterpoint to her own. Katniss could feel everything building and concentrating within herself. They were both racing toward the same destination, but Peeta was well ahead of her.

True to observation, it wasn't long before Peeta pulled her tightly against him, until their hips were completely flush. He gave a soft groan, and Katniss thought it was one of the most wonderful sounds she'd ever heard.

It was like a fever breaking. Much of the heat firing his actions dissipated, and perspiration stippled his forehead. His eyes were fever-bright as well, blinking heavily up at her with happiness and gratitude. Katniss was hit by a rush of powerful affection, almost enough to overwhelm her, and a good deal of pride.

She dropped a quick kiss to his lips and slid off his lap. He tried to prevent it, his hands seeking stay her movement. "Come back here. I'm not done with you yet," he teased.

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. The want was still strumming through her, but nervousness was winning out. She'd intended this time to be primarily for Peeta anyways, and it was already getting dark. "Hush. Not today. It's late."

She gave him a moment to gather himself, and then he reluctantly joined her as they walked to the doors.

"Faren's toasting is just two weeks away," Peeta said.

"What did you end up telling him?" She wondered nervously.

"I told him that now that I have you near me, only a fool would think I'd stay away. He didn't like it, but he doesn't have to."

Katniss gnawed on her lower lip. "Maybe he'll focus on other things once he's toasted."

Peeta smiled at her reassuringly. "Faren's just playing 'interfering older sibling.' There's nothing to worry about. Except six long days until next Sunday," he said with a wink.

After a final kiss, they parted ways.

* * *

It was a few days later that Prim told Katniss a secret.

"Leevy's pregnant. She came to see Mom today, and then told me after," Prim whispered, in the dark of the bedroom.

"She's going to surprise Gale with it tomorrow," Prim confided excitedly.

Katniss tried not to let her mind immediately jump to the possibility of the child going to the Games, but she failed, just as she failed to suppress the sick feeling of dread and terror at all the harrowing Reapings she knew lay ahead

"Isn't that wonderful?" Prim prompted.

"Yes," she lied.

Katniss was quiet the next morning, and when she went to the woods, she didn't hunt. Keeping her eyes out for osage trees, she ran through the steps necessary to fashion a bow. She'd made Gale's from instructions her father imparted while he'd crafted the small bow she'd used as a child. Katniss still had it, secreted away near her father's lake, but she couldn't bring herself to give that one up.

Gale still hadn't shown an interest in reclaiming their friendship after his toasting, but Katniss tenaciously refused to completely give up on her old hunting partner. She wasn't going to approach him, but the newest Hawthorne should learn to hunt someday. Relying on others to survive was a dangerous thing in Twelve, she and Gale knew that well. He had never taught his siblings to hunt, so if something happened to him, his child needed to be able to feed itself.

She intended to help with that. Gale's baby would have a starter bow before it was even born. It was the greatest gift Katniss could think to give, and the best and only way she could come up with to help protect the child.

* * *

She told Peeta about it that Sunday, sitting beside him in the muggy warehouse that felt like it belonged to them.

"The thing is, Prim's ecstatic about the baby. She's getting toasted so soon, and I just worry that once she does, she's going to rush into things, maybe before knowing if she and Rory are ready to support a baby."

"Whoa, Katniss. Don't get ahead of yourself. Prim's not even toasting age yet. Just because she's excited about the Hawthornes' baby doesn't mean she's impatient to have one of her own. Talk to her about it. See what she says."

Katniss nodded. She knew he was right, and that she was worrying about things she didn't necessarily have to yet. But it helped to have someone to voice her fears to, and for that she was grateful.

"I just think it's amazing that you're making that bow. You're so...pure of heart," he said. "Even though you're scared and worried, you're still trying to protect everyone in your life. Even before they get here," he said with a smile.

Katniss laid her head on his shoulder, hiding the pleased smile his words had elicited in the folds of his sleeve. Even when she felt weak and incapable of making things better, Peeta always saw it differently, finding something worthwhile in the midst of her powerlessness.

She turned his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm and the little scars on his fingers. There were several bright splashes of color on the skin.

"Decorating cakes?" She asked knowingly.

"Almost. I've been mixing dyes for Faren's toasting cake frosting. I'm starting it this week, and my mother wants it to be the most ostentatious cake the District has ever seen. She actually cleared my schedule for it, so I probably won't be in the kitchen to trade at all this week. I'll be out front working by the window."

"And she's making you do it all? Can't she at least help?" Katniss wondered. Peeta shook his head.

"She's no good at it. Dad and Ander will be helping, though..

Katniss scowled. She wasn't going to see him next Sunday, and now she wouldn't see him all week.

"What is a merchant toasting like?" she asked, imagining the event: picturesque decorations, a nosegay carried by the bride, coveted refreshments, and lovely guests, dressed in their merchant finest. Thinking of all the girls attending in freshly pressed, pastel dresses, with flower water dabbed behind their ears, made Katniss feel uncomfortable.

With their mother's interest in a show of wealth, all the merchants would undoubtedly be invited. And with Peeta Mellark's charm, lots of women would probably be trying to catch his eye. Mrs. Mellark would be delighted.

It was a world she wasn't welcome in, and of course Peeta had not invited her. A, niggling voice deep inside wondered if he'd really wanted to, or if the wish had never crossed his mind.

Peeta's answer cut into her thoughts. "They're essentially the same as Seam ones."

"Except for the fancy cake," she bit out.

Katniss instantly felt contrite. Why shouldn't his brother have a toasting cake? Peeta hadn't chosen to be born to a merchant family, and if he had, would she blame him? It wasn't his fault things were skewed so unequally between their two classes, and she knew he tried to be mindful of the differences in their situation.

It was just hard not to think about the gaping differences that existed between the two ceremonies. Katniss always felt out of her element when it came to the places their lives intersected, but never seemed to parallel.

"I meant more along the lines of all the most important traditions still being the same: bread toasted and shared, crossing a threshold, and the the singing of the toasting song," he clarified. "Is something wrong, Katniss?

"No. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little out of sorts because I'll miss you next Sunday," she admitted. "And on top of that, I won't even be trading with you this week."

"Then we'll just have to make the most of this evening," he said, leaning closer. Katniss couldn't agree more.

It wasn't difficult to forget her worries when she was in Peeta's arms. She deepened the kiss, eager to pursue the euphoria that had just eluded her before. She rolled against him, and when he responded, she pressed her hand against the raised material of his slacks.

Peeta rained kisses down her neck, and a breathless sigh escaped her.

After a time, Peeta drew back. "Can I touch you?" he asked, placing his fingers lightly over the fabric of her pants.

She nodded encouragingly. "Yes, but…nothing beyond this, okay?" Then it was his turn to nod in agreement. He gently unfastened the closure on her worn slacks, and slipped his hand tentatively between the top of her undergarments and her skin. Her skin was soft and heated, and she watched his movements with apprehension and excitement. The pads of his fingers moved lower, past her curls, to the seam of her lower lips. There they met a slickness that invited him further, and his breath caught at the feeling of her damp flesh against his digits. Her mouth dropped open in a silent gasp, and Katniss closed her eyes to focus only on their contact.

"Oh Katniss," he breathed reverently, in wonder at the feel of her, pressing a kiss to her pulse point. As he moved his hand, exploring, she whined and grasped his shoulders tightly. Katniss panted into the space where his neck and shoulders met. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, not when every press of his fingers stole it away again.

Peeta had one arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her closer to him. She'd been undulating on top of him for a while, and her movements were becoming unfocused and losing rhythm. Peeta nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth, drawing her drifting eyes back to his.

Katniss could feel she was quickly approaching the precipice she sought. When their eyes met, and she saw appetent joy in all the blue, something within her released, and she was falling to pieces and soaring all at once. She writhed and Peeta cradled her against him, until she felt him fall as well.

When their breathing had evened, and their hearts beat a steady pace again, Katniss was content to just bask in the dissipating warmth. She imagined she must resemble Buttercup, when he spent lazy, languid hours laying in the sun, eyes drowsy with utter contentment.

Peeta idly trailed his fingertips over the wisps of hair beneath her braid. "If you're not busy, do you think you could meet me here next Sunday evening?" he asked sleepily. "I don't know if I can sneak away, but I'll sure try."

"Peeta, it's your brother's toasting," she admonished.

"I'll be there for it," he insisted. "And the cake-cutting too. Even the endless, rambling speeches. But I don't see why I should stay for the dancing, when the only person I want to partner with isn't there."

Katniss averted her eyes and smiled, feeling silly for her baseless worrying earlier. "I suppose I could."

"Great!" He dropped a kiss to her nose, and then they gently extricated themselves. "I ought to get back and work on the cake design a bit more," Peeta said regretfully. "I need all the time I can get if it's going to "be a statement" like she wants."

"Shouldn't it be more about what Lanni and Faren want?" Katniss asked.

Peeta chuckled. "You know, it never seems to be. Must be a merchant thing."

Katniss shook her head and righted her clothes, which had become quite skewed since entering the warehouse.

"Hopefully I'll see you Sunday," Peeta said. She nodded, and with a last, soft smile, ducked out the door and into the night.

* * *

He looked wonderful when he finally joined her at the warehouse. His clothes were neat as a pin, and he was wearing a smartly pressed white dress shirt. Such a garment seemed completely out of place in the coal district, certainly in a coal storage warehouse, abandoned or not.

Katniss rushed toward him immediately, eager for the relief of being able to touch him again, and too impatient to wait a moment longer. He stumbled when she flung her arms around him, balancing something in his hand, and she steadied them with a hand on the wall. Peeta hastily set whatever he'd been carrying down, and then began unbuttoning his shirt between frantic kisses.

"If I get coal dust on this shirt I'm a dead man," he explained, when he turned and hung it on the handle of the propped door, which was one of the few spots around them not coated in black, due to its frequent use.

He wore only a tank top beneath, and as soon as the white shirt was secure, Katniss was only too happy to let him pull her roughly back to him, holding her tightly enough that she had to bring her hands around and cling to his back for balance. It felt like there was no stopping, and they tripped their way over to the crate.

After they'd completed their ardent greeting, Peeta rose from the crate to fetch the object he'd brought. Katniss saw that she'd left a bold, black handprint on the back of his tank top. Her hand must have gotten coated in black dust when she'd braced it against the wall at the door. Though amusing, she resolved to tell Peeta about it before he left, as something like that could land him in trouble.

She was distracted from the thought when he brought back a small cardboard box, one of the ones they used for delicate purchases at the bakery. Katniss opened it to find a slice of toasting cake inside.

"I thought you should have some. You seemed interested in it last time we were here."

Katniss was delighted. She'd never had toasting cake before, and the gesture meant he'd been thinking about her earlier in the day.

She scrubbed the smudges of coal off her hand with a handkerchief. The first bite was heavenly. It was fluffy, light and sweet, with a delicate flavor.

"You've got a little bit on the corner of your mouth," Peeta told her, but when she failed to dab at the correct spot, he leaned over to kiss it away himself.

"Mmm," he hummed appreciatively, and Katniss blushed.

"I did a great job on that cake," he said smugly.

Katniss gave him a playful shove, and wiped some frosting on his cheek in retaliation.

"Hey, I didn't bring you this cake for you to waste it you know.".

"Oh, I don't intend to waste it," she answered slyly, before leaning in to spread little kisses over the smear of frosting. As usual, once she'd started kissing Peeta, there seemed to be no stopping, even after every trace of icing had been cleaned from his cheek. His hands lightly gripped her elbows, so he could return the favor.

The cake sat forgotten for some time.

* * *

Monday was bright with a cloudless sky. September was a few days away, and already, some leaves were beginning to change. Katniss reminded herself that it was Peeta's favorite season, and she'd have to make him some more paints for the occasion, in all manner of golden, fiery hues.

Their time together the night before had been wonderful, and had left her sighing in blissful relaxation even as he'd pulled his dress shirt back on, in a hurry to return home before his absence became unforgivably long.

As she approached the bakery, she was surprised to see they still hadn't cleaned up from the toasting. And it looked like it had been quite a party - things were littering the ground everywhere.

The closer she got, the odder it was. The lights were off in the front windows, and she could hear indistinct shouting upstairs. The objects on the ground didn't look like decorations. Slinking up to the side of the building, she peeked through the kitchen window.

Peeta wasn't there. Instead, it was Ander, and he seemed troubled. He was rolling out dough, but half-heartedly, his movements slow.

Katniss heard the latch of a window opening above, and a box of paints was suddenly flying out of it to shatter at her feet.

They were the paints she'd made Peeta.

The screaming was no longer indistinct, and it could only come from one person.

"Someone who consorts with Seam filth is no son of mine!" Mrs. Mellark yelled.

Katniss could just make out the pleading tones of Mr. Mellark's voice as he approached the window and pulled it shut, obviously trying to keep the matter private.

She looked back into the kitchen in horror, the situation dawning on her. The sound of the paints shattering must have caught Ander's attention, because he was looking back at her now, anger and disappointment on his face.

"Peeta's not here?" she mouthed, dreading the answer.

Ander shook his head slowly, and looked morosely back at his dough.

Her breath was fast and panicked. She didn't know what to do.

He'd been kicked out of his house, all because of her. She had to find Peeta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for reading the story and being so patient with the updates. I'm going to have to guesstimate about a month's wait for each chapter, anything briefer just doesn't seem to happen. My wildly inaccurate crystal ball predicts about four more chapters and an epilogue.
> 
> I hope this didn't seem OOC. Katniss has denied herself life's pleasures for a very long time, and when she finally indulges in one, I don't see her regulating herself and weighing consequences terribly well right out of the gate. Looking at the beach scene in CF, I see someone for whom desire has powerful sway.
> 
> Hopefull the abandoned warehouse didn't seem too convenient for the fic. There is canonical mention of a new storage method implemented by the Capitol, which left several coal production buildings empty. The Hob sprang up in one of them.
> 
> Mrs. Everdeen used Chadwick's sign to confirm Leevy's pregnancy, a method that wasn't widely used, even before more scientific methods, because it's pretty…hands on. But since it only requires expertise and the powers of observation, I feel it would be the perfect, no-cost method for a Seam healer. It's visible as early as 6 to 8 weeks into the pregnancy, which means Leevy was already pregnant when she was looking for fertility herbs.
> 
> Lastly, if you're craving more not-reaped!Everlark fics, please read "Carrot Cake" by arollercoasterthatonlygoesup. It's gorgeous and completed, and I inhaled it at work the other day. Don't know how I missed it before now!
> 
> I am Ghtlovesthg on tumblr. :)


	7. Stoop (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, I'm really sorry for the wait. RL drudgery and fandom events alike delayed me quite a bit, and this (extended) chapter fought me every step of the way. I'm kind of super nervous that you guys are going to hate this one.
> 
> Oh well, too late, it's written! ;)
> 
> This chapter has been posted in two parts, because it's so long. It could have just been two separate chapters, but I didn't want to leave this part hanging for a month at least while I wrote the next. I think you'll agree.
> 
> Eternal thanks to my stellar beta, The RPGenius. Despite many pressing commitments, he edited 37 PAGES of text in a day, and suggested some absolutely essential changes. If you find errors, they are sections I reworked after he saw it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Katniss didn't know what to do. She'd start in one direction, think better of it, and then head off another way, before indecision gripped her again. So far she'd just managed to pace the town square in fits and starts, looking lost and agitated.

If Peeta needed her help, he would probably go to their meeting place. She headed toward the road dividing town from Seam, intent on checking the run-down house. But when she got close, and saw no one sitting on the sunken doorstep, Katniss hurried on.

She stopped by her house long enough to confirm with her mother that they'd had no visitors, before racing back out the door. Katniss tried not to panic. Every minute he was missing, she became more certain he was hurt or in need of help. A cursory search of the Hob yielded no trace of him, and the final place she could think to look was the abandoned warehouse that had become their secret hideaway.

Once inside, her hopes sank. There was no seated form on the crate in the middle of the floor. Wringing her hands, Katniss approached it and sat down, running through possible refuges again and again. Had it really only been last night that they were in each others' arms in this very spot?

After a moment, she noticed the discarded box from the bakery on the ground. It was from the slice of toasting cake she'd eaten yesterday, the one that Peeta had decorated for Faren and brought to her specially. Katniss jumped to her feet at the thought. How on Earth had she forgotten Faren? Of course Peeta would go him first! Who better to offer shelter than a brother, one who understood their mother's mercurial temperament? Katniss rushed out of the warehouse, headed toward the merchant sector once more.

* * *

When Faren finally answered the door to her frantic knocks, he looked ruffled and slightly grumpy.

"Katniss?" he asked, incredulous, eyeing the game bag hanging loosely at her side. "I don't know if you're lost, or trying to give me a belated wedding gift, but I don't want any game and I'm kind of busy."

Last night was his wedding night. She hadn't even really considered that, too caught up in worrying for Peeta. Katniss pushed right past her embarrassment - ascertaining Peeta's whereabouts was so much more important.

"Is Peeta here?" she pressed, fear and hope evident.

Faren snorted. "'Course not. And he better not be on his way, either, because Lanni and I aren't receiving visitors for the time being," he added, giving Katniss a pointed look.

His eyes narrowed however, as the implication behind her words caught up to him. "Wait, why would you think he'd be here in the first place? Why isn't he at the bakery?" Faren asked, his tone bordering on accusatory.

The guilt and worry on her face told him more than enough.

He cursed as he banged his fist on the doorframe in frustration. "I told him! I tried to tell you. You're both such idiots," he scoffed angrily.

After one look at the remorse on her face, the heat behind his ire cooled. Faren sighed and dropped down to sit on the steps. "Have a seat Katniss."

She crouched on a lower stair. "You've checked wherever you two normally went?" Faren asked after a moment. Katniss nodded.

"Maybe he's with a friend?" she suggested. She didn't know which of their classmates Peeta had remained close with.

Faren shook his head. "I doubt it. Peeta's always kept family matters very private. For obvious reasons," he added under his breath.

Katniss, shifted, restless. They were getting nowhere.

"Huh. I really would've expected him to be on your doorstep, penning some sort of love note," he said. "I'm out of ideas."

She bristled. This was no time to be poking fun, older brother or not.

"He could be hurt! He's homeless! And instead of being helpful, or searching, you're making jokes," she spat. "I don't have time to waste on this." Katniss rose and turned to go. "I've got to find him."

"Hey," Faren called, before she'd gotten too far. "Peeta's a big boy. He's tougher than you think, and he's dealt with her for years. I'm sure wherever he is, he's alright."

Katniss almost snarled. If his whole family's attitude was as complacent as that, she could see how extra bruises and burns could have gone overlooked through the years.

"Look, I know what you're probably thinking," he amended, "But you weren't there. I'm speaking from experience, and sometimes it's easier to downplay the things you can't get enough distance from. If Peeta was really in trouble, he would have found me."

Katniss shook her head. She didn't have confidence in Faren's assertion. "I don't work that way. Because I know different. It doesn't matter if a person was perfectly fine when you left them, or if there's not enough reason to think otherwise while they're gone. Sometimes, once a person disappears from your sight, they never come back. I have to find Peeta," Katniss repeated, as she made to leave once more.

"He's somewhere you'll think to look, I'm sure of it," Faren called. "Waiting for you, like always."

Faren watched the Seam huntress dash off, and turned to reach back into the doorway, getting his boots from where he kept them in the hallway. He pulled them on with a sigh. Lanni was waiting for him upstairs, and there was nowhere he'd rather be than in bed next to her.

But his little brother had just lost almost everything, and knowing his mother's rages, he felt sure Peeta's possessions would be strewn across the alleyway next to the bakery and littering the yard behind. He might as well collect Peeta's things for him before she took it all back or sold it.

* * *

If Peeta was only likely to seek her help or his brother's, like Faren thought, the abandoned house remained the most likely place for him to go. She'd already checked there, but maybe they'd missed each other in passing.

As Katniss approached, her heart sank to see the stoop as vacant as ever, but then she noticed the crooked door had been pushed open somewhat. Heart pounding, she dashed up the front steps and squeezed past the warped wood. Katniss had never really taken note of the structure's details, other than its disrepair, but once inside, she realized it was larger than previously thought. Rushing through what was once a kitchen, Katniss noted the layer of grime coating everything as she passed through a doorway and into another room.

And there, kneeling before a bare hearth with clothes and hair caked in the dust from his surroundings, was Peeta.

She must have made some sound, because he turned and rose just in time to catch her in his arms as Katniss hurtled toward him. Then she was kissing him, again and again, raining thankful little pecks all over his face, jaw, and hairline, just grateful that he was here, and found.

Next Katniss conducted a frenzied inspection, lightly running her hands over him, checking every inch of his face, head, arms, and hands for any sort of injuries. Finding none, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and rested her head against his chest, right over his heartbeat, just soaking in the warmth and solidness of his presence.

He chuckled at her greeting, and she smiled as she felt the laughter rumble through his chest. "Hey stranger," Peeta said softly.

His smile was rueful, and Katniss drew away reluctantly. "Peeta, I was so worried. She didn't hurt you, did she?" As he shook his head, Katniss felt as though a weight was lifted from her.

"Besides ringing eardrums, I'm fine. She was in top form this morning," he deadpanned.

"What happened?"

"Well, she figured out that I haven't been leaving to meet one of her friends' daughters all this time." There was hesitation and apology in his eyes.

It was a valiant attempt to soften the fact that Mrs. Mellark despised her and every other person from the Seam, but the effort was pointless. Everyone knew of her contempt. What Katniss didn't know was how Mrs. Mellark had figured it out. But in the span of a moment, she remembered the handprint left on his undershirt, the one she'd forgotten to tell him about in the blissful aftermath of their time together. Katniss brought her hands to cover her mouth in dismay.

"Peeta, I left a handprint on your shirt. That was how she found out, wasn't it?" This was even more her fault than previously thought.

"No, actually. Turns out it wasn't the best idea to slip away from the toasting when every merchant girl in Twelve was in attendance," he said, sheepishly. "That narrowed it down a bit for her."

"Mom turned in early because of a headache, so she was asleep when I got back. She made sure to rouse me first thing this morning with the demand that I never see you again, though. _That_ wasn't going to happen, so I started getting dressed to leave. It was pretty clear that I wouldn't be welcome to stay if I didn't give in. She was shrieking well before I turned around to buckle my belt and she saw the mark you left."

His mouth quirked in amusement as he remembered. "I hadn't even known it was there, but when she saw it, she _lost_ it. I guess it was too vivid an indication of where I'd chosen to be last night. She started hurling things left and right, and instead of threatening to kick me out, she demanded I leave."

Peeta shrugged. "That was fine with me, I was already knotting my bootlaces at this point. The last thing I'm going to do is give you up, Katniss."

Discomfort roiled through her. He had to give her up. There was no question about it.

The thought was painful to even consider, but her hours with Peeta were numbered. He couldn't forsake his home and livelihood for anything, not when living in Twelve. He'd never survive. Katniss felt sure Mrs. Mellark would take him back, provided he forswore any association with a Seam resident in the future. Surely the woman couldn't resist such an opportunity to win, and keeping the family intact would undoubtedly smooth out any wrinkles in their reputation.

"How did she know it was me?" Katniss asked, heart already panging in grief at their impending separation.

"She doesn't," Peeta answered emphatically. "I certainly wasn't going to tell her. I plan on keeping her in the dark as long as possible. You would lose my father's business, and she might try to turn some of your other merchant clients against you. She'll find out eventually, that's inevitable, but there's certainly no reason to hurry that along. Hopefully by then the whole thing will be old news, and no one will up in arms about it."

Perhaps she could still see him when trading, after he returned to town. That small chance hinged on Mrs. Mellark never finding out her identity, but at this point, it was her only hope of not losing her connection to Peeta entirely. Katniss wondered how he could be so upbeat. Did Peeta really not understand the predicament he was in?

"Anyways, enough about her, there's lots I want to show you here," he said excitedly.

"Show me?"

"Yes, look at this place! I can't believe we never came in here. The kitchen's not so bad, and there's even some furniture and useful things lying around. I can't understand why it wasn't picked clean years ago."

It _was_ strange that it hadn't been completely ransacked, but Katniss couldn't believe what was she was hearing.

"The top of the chimney's collapsed, but the foundation's still solid. My biggest problem is going to be the broken windows. Glass is not cheap-"

Peeta continued listing the charms of their surroundings as Katniss looked around her in bewilderment, at the holes that had been chewed in the wall by rats, at the sunken skeleton of a sofa that sat moldering to their left, then up at the gaping hole in the roof above them.

"Are you- Are you thinking of staying here?"

"Yeah. Isn't it a great idea? Clearly no one wants this place, and without a trade approved by the Justice Building or a commission with the mines, I won't be able to get a place to live.

"And that's not even the best of it! Being right between Seam and town, I can see you much more often. You could even stop by on your way back from trading each day," he added, dropping a quick kiss to her slackened mouth.

Katniss closed her eyes in dread. How could Peeta not comprehend the impossibility of these plans? Repairs took money, _living_ took money. There were no unfulfilled trades in the district, and any available apprenticeships would be arranged between merchant families, snatched up in town by the daughters and sons that had just passed Reaping age. The only work to be found was in the mines.

Peeta couldn't go to the mines. The thought was untenable. If it didn't kill him, it would kill what he was. Peeta was meant to interact with the district at large, to shine with the same warmth he baked so expertly into buns and rolls and cookies. Amidst the squalor surrounding them, he was needed to add brightness with just a spot of frosting.

None of that could happen if Peeta was miles beneath the surface, enshrouded in darkness. She imagined him down there, able to be trapped, suffocated or crushed at any moment, and Katniss had to clench her fingers to quell their trembling. No. He _had_ to go back to town.

"You can't stay, you don't belong here. It won't work, Peeta."

His shoulders slumped at her steely pronouncement. Peeta seemed not only disappointed, but disconcerted by her vehemence.

"Why not? I could make it work. I can trade or work for materials to repair this place, and I'll find work. I know I'm not Seam, but maybe over time, I could fit in? I'm good at winning people over," he said with a beatific smile. "I got you to put up with me, right?"

Katniss shook her head. "You _won't_ find work, and there will be no time to win anyone over. Winter will be here in a few months," she reminded, "and "fitting in" won't keep you warm or fed.

"Even if that wasn't the case, our being together won't work to your advantage. People won't like it, in the town or the Seam, and they won't accept you." It would have ramifications on people's willingness to trade with her as well, she realized.

"You have exactly one option, Peeta, and it's to go back to the bakery."

"Absolutely not," he bit out instantly. "That's out of the question."

His flat-out refusal raised her hackles.

"Don't be stupid, Peeta. You've never been starving, I _have_ , and nothing's worth going through that! I hate it every bit as much as you do, but you have to return. If you beg her, and swear to stick to your own, she'll surely take you back."

"So that's it?" he asked incredulously. "After everything that's grown between us, you're perfectly capable of walking away at the drop of a hat. Because what? It's not as convenient anymore?"

"Peeta," she beseeched, breath catching. "This hurts me too, greatly, but I can't ignore reality. I only want what's best for you."

He pursed his lips in annoyance. "Katniss, you're not responsible for my decisions. I'm not some hatchling you need to take under your wing. I can decide what's best for me, and it's being with you in whatever way you'll allow. Through everything, I've tried to be as understanding and supportive of your needs as I can. Can't you offer me the same?"

Katniss squeezed her eyes shut, agonized. She was getting so upset, it was difficult to maintain a calm façade. Peeta wouldn't acknowledge what had to end here. But she was resolute.

Katniss reopened her eyes and fixed them on Peeta. Desolate, she slowly shook her heartbreak and distress in his face was evident, and it felt as though her insides were cast in lead, heavy but hollow.

"Whether you stay or go, I won't see you again." She spoke slowly and carefully, because her voice was as thin as tissue paper, and liable to break any second. "So you ought to return home. There's nothing for you here."

* * *

Katniss could barely sleep all night. She couldn't get the dismay and hurt on Peeta's face out of her mind, and she recriminated herself endlessly. Cold as she'd been, hadn't she acted for the best? She would do anything to protect Peeta, even if it meant cutting him out of her life for his own well-being. But in doing so, she had to acknowledge, she was sending Peeta straight back to the abuses of his mother.

But surely that was still preferable to living a life of hunger, poverty, and ostracism. Peeta would have to give up. Once he realized she was truly serious, and that there was no chance of a future for them, he'd return to the world he was meant for. In the end, her abandonment would make the break easier for him. Some elegant, pleasing merchant girl would comfort him, and he'd love her for it. Katniss had never felt so wretched.

If he married a merchant girl one day, maybe he could escape his home environment. If that was the case, she'd just been getting in the way all this time, postponing his escape.

There was little comfort in any of these thoughts. But how else could she care for him at this point? He was about to destroy his life for her. The nights were warm _now_ , but they wouldn't be for long. He was probably lying in that drafty, dilapidated shack this very second, kept awake by hunger pains. Was he as afraid for himself as she was?

* * *

The first thing she did the next morning was leave a bit of food on the doorstep of the abandoned house. There was no movement from within. Katniss knew it was too much to hope that he'd given up already. Maybe he was in town looking for work.

When she traded with Ander at the bakery later in the day, Mr. Mellark came and pressed an extra loaf of bread into her hands, whispering, "Is he okay?"

Katniss glared at him angrily. "Not for long, if you don't welcome him back here!"

He shook his head, distraught, and his eyes pleaded for her understanding. "I'm trying. But I don't know if she'll change her mind."

"That's why you need to insist! Who cares what she says? Put your foot your down. Isn't this your home, your business, and your family too?"

Peeta's mother entered the kitchen from the storefront, and Mr. Mellark pushed the door closed. When it didn't reopen, Katniss stormed off in fury, muttering choice words under her breath.

* * *

Within a day or two, the merchant sector was abuzz, talking about Peeta's absence. One would think, listening to them talk, that Peeta had been exiled to some distant, unreachable district, instead of seeking refuge a very short distance from where they lived and worked. He'd been looking for work at their backdoors just days ago. But they were all acting like he had been lost to them.

Katniss listened extra carefully as she traded at the backdoors of her Town clients. Speculation abounded on the severity of his break with the family. She heard whispered theories about Mrs. Mellark flying into an apoplectic rage over a cake gone wrong, other bets that Peeta had just up and run to escape her nagging, and finally, scandalous claims that Peeta had taken up with a Seam lover.

Katniss tried not to blush to the roots of her hair when she caught snippets of _those_ conversations. There were people who spoke of the possibility disparagingly, lauding Mrs. Mellark for keeping her business and reputation spotless. A few hushed exchanges stopped awkwardly when they realized she was listening. There were even a few merchant daughters that giggled over the idea of forbidden love.

One matron at the sweet shop glared at her suspiciously, as if Katniss might be plotting to lure her son away from the back room and abscond with him to the Hob. Katniss was offended, even though technically, she knew that she was the Seam "temptress" in all the lurid and unlikely scenarios they posited. But she was a fairly common sight around town, and in all their imaginings, they never pictured someone like her. She hesitated to think of the undoubtedly unflattering caricature of a Seam woman they envisioned. Maybe her demeanor precluded her from being someone Peeta would gravitate toward, in their minds. Whatever the case, besides a few clients fishing for any gossip she may have, business was fairly normal.

That was, until she reached the cobbler's. Almost before she'd finished knocking, Katniss was being pulled into the back of the shop, then found herself enveloped in a soft, bracing hug.

"It's you, isn't it?" Delly asked hopefully as she pulled away. "Peeta finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt?"

She knew the flush on her cheeks spoke volumes when Delly gathered her in once more, cooing over her like a nesting dove.

"I knew it! And don't worry Katniss," she assured. "everything will work out somehow."

Katniss couldn't help but feel that such an outlook was unrealistically optimistic. It took several moments for Delly to stop exclaiming over how happy she was that her childhood friend's feelings had been returned, and actually look at the game available that day. After Delly went to get payment, she returned with a little satchel and slipped it into Katniss' game bag. It made a distinctly metallic clink as it landed.

"That's for a certain ex-baker, whom I'm sure you know how to find," Delly said with an exaggerated wink.

Peeta didn't seem to have the problems with owing people that she did. Even so, Katniss wasn't sure how he'd feel about accepting Delly's money. His situation seemed dire enough, however, that Katniss was more than willing to accept it on Peeta's behalf.

"I'm sure he'd like to thank you in person. Hopefully he'll be back at the bakery and able to do so soon."

Delly gave her a questioning look, before smiling politely. "Don't worry about it. He'd do the same for me. And let me know if there's anything else I can do."

Katniss nodded, before heading on. The last place where she traded was the Mayor's. When Madge saw the huntress, her eyes lit up, and she asked Katniss to wait for a moment while she grabbed something.

When she returned, there was a bulky down comforter gathered in her arms. The ends trailed behind.

"I'm getting rid of this," Madge explained. "I was hoping you'd know the whereabouts of a potential recipient."

Katniss eyed the blanket. It looked practically new. "What's wrong with it?" she asked skeptically.

"Oh. Well, there's a stain on it that I can't get out."

Katniss arched her eyebrow and looked at the spotless fabric as Madge passed it to her. "I don't see it."

"It's there," Madge insisted. "I'll get a new one, and this one can go to…well, anyone you know of who could use it."

Katniss rolled it as tightly as she could, and wedged it into her game bag. "Been talking to Delly?" she guessed.

Madge smiled guiltily. "Maybe. Was she right?"

Katniss averted her eyes. "Maybe."

"I'm glad."

Her eyes lifted to Madge, surprised. "Really?"

"Not that he got kicked out! But that you found each other, yeah. Peeta's a really good person. Maybe even good enough for my old lunch buddy," Madge said, smiling sweetly.

Katniss was torn, pleased that Madge considered her a friend, but saddened at the misconception that she and Peeta could remain together. "He'll be really grateful," she managed.

Madge nodded. "Don't mention it. And remember I'm here, if you need anything."

Katniss nodded gratefully and headed back to the Square. The doorstep of the abandoned shack would be full tonight.

* * *

The practice of handing off an extra bread loaf for Peeta continued daily at the bakery, but Ander was the only person who ever came to the door, and he was unwilling to discuss anything but terms of the trade. Katniss wanted to hope Peeta would be welcomed back any day now, but it didn't seem likely.

She continued to leave any game she could spare and a little supply of firewood on the doorstep of the shack. Katniss may have been avoiding Peeta, but there was no way she'd let him starve. Still, she couldn't pretend she was serving much better than his family was, a fact she dwelled upon frequently with shame.

Peeta clearly hadn't given up, because there were noticeable changes to the lot each time she walked to his door. A pile of unsalvageable junk from within the house steadily grew. There were also crates and pallets piled against a wall, which hadn't been there before. It looked like he'd been scouring all the abandoned warehouses for materials.

Over a period of days, Katniss watched a small heap of stones and broken bricks accumulate. The area around the little house was beginning to look like a junkyard, but the house seemed unchanged. It still wasn't fit for Peeta to live in, she thought bitterly, while hurrying away from his door and back to the Seam. With each passing day, Katniss began to panic a little more that Peeta wouldn't leave the shack.

The next afternoon, Peeta was outside the structure when she approached. She debated returning later, but watched what he was doing with interest. He was crouched over by the front door, with a crate nearby that was half full of dirt-covered rocks of various sizes. There was a curved scrap of metal in his hand, and he appeared to be digging. Reaching into a burlap bag looped around his belt, he pulled out a dandelion, complete with roots dangling from the stalk, and positioned it upright in the hollow he'd dug, before covering the roots back up with more earth.

Katniss couldn't believe it. She stalked closer to be sure, but it was as she thought. Weaving her way impatiently around the sorted piles of varying materials, she cocked her hands on her hips when she stood directly behind him.

"What, in the name of the odds, are you _doing_?" she asked angrily.

Peeta startled loudly, dropping his makeshift trowel, before cocking his head back to look up at her. He sat back on his haunches and wiped the dirt from his hands as she waited.

"Planting dandelions," he said simply, as if that was any sort of explanation.

Katniss looked around in disbelief. Sure enough, a sad, drooping row of transplanted dandelions flanked the front of the house.

"What would possess you to do anything as useless as that?" she snapped. This was _exactly_ why his living here wouldn't work.

"I really like dandelions, as you may remember," Peeta said. She knew he was referring to the bouquet she'd left him, but she wouldn't be swayed.

"I was digging up stones in the meadow, and I had to yank up a dandelion to get at a rock that was mostly buried beneath it. They are _not_ easy to pull up," he added as an aside. "It still had several of its roots, and I realized I could replant it here."

Katniss dragged her hands over her face in irritation.

"You won't make it five weeks here! Someone from the Seam might look at that dandelion and see food. But being a merchant, you're only taught to see things as pleasing or displeasing to the eye! So instead of frosting cakes, like you're _supposed_ to be doing, you're decorating this utter disaster of a house! One that won't shelter you in the slightest!"

"Just because I recognize the beauty in something doesn't mean I can't see it another way too. It doesn't have to be a weakness." Peeta insisted. "So teach me what you see when you look at dandelions."

Katniss closed her mouth with an audible click. She didn't see a food source when she looked at dandelions, either. She saw hope first, a meal second. Peeta was trying to distract her, and even if she could teach him how to be a scrappy survivalist like her, she didn't want to supplant his current perspective, which she cherished.

"What you fail to realize," she continued, trying to get back on track, "is that winter is fast approaching. The clock's ticking as surely as the countdown at the Cornucopia, and there's no hope of supplies or sponsors when time runs out - just bitter cold and hunger. So please, tell the audience," she demanded sarcastically, "what's your strategy?"

Peeta rolled his eyes. "You make a terrible Caesar Flickerman. You're entirely too pretty. And anyways, this wasn't an entirely useless endeavor," he continued. "It got you to talk to me." Peeta had the gall to smirk at her triumphantly.

He was absolutely infuriating. But before Katniss had a chance to respond, Faren was calling to them, approaching from the road that led to the town square.

"Hey Peeta, Katni- Whoah! What's with the scowl?" He looked to Peeta for an explanation, but the youngest Mellark remained tight-lipped.

"What, is the honeymoon over between you two already?" Faren quipped. "I know how it feels, _mine_ came to an abrupt halt as well," he said, sending pointed look towards Katniss.

"I'm sure you caught up in no time, Faren," Peeta deadpanned, shaking his head as he rose. "More importantly, did you bring the nails?"

"Yeah, I've got them. And what's more, a hammer."

Peeta's face lit up at this news. "That's great! I thought I'd have to patch the roof using a rock," he chuckled.

"So you're encouraging this nonsense?" Katniss demanded of Faren. She couldn't believe how cavalier they were being about this whole thing.

"No choice. Peeta's as stubborn as they come. Once he's made up his mind about doing something, that's it. If there isn't an obvious way to get it done, he'll figure out a new one."

Katniss glanced at Peeta to see what he thought of that summation. Nothing in his face indicated disagreement; instead, there was a discernible hint of amusement in his expression. But Peeta had always seemed so agreeable.

"Oh, you hadn't bumped into that little personality trait yet?" Faren surmised. "Peeta's as accommodating and good-natured as they come, but when it comes to what really matters to him, he's as immovable as a boulder." Faren looked at her speculatively. "You sure sound upset that Peeta's trying to make a go of it here. Even so, here you are, looking out for him. You two might make it yet."

Peeta looked at her, and she had to avert her gaze at the hopeful look in his eyes. She was failing him almost as completely as his family was. But it really seemed like her only option.

"His _family_ should be by his side! Why is no one else bringing him food? Where is Mr. Mellark? Why is it that Peeta isn't staying with you, Faren?" she challenged.

"I can't stay with Faren," Peeta answered. "There's no extra room in that tiny loft, and the space belongs to Lanni's father. "

"It's still got to be better than here. Maybe you could pay rent, until you get sorted out."

"I doubt he'd want a freeloader around. Even if it was possible, it could only be a temporary situation." Peeta looked to his brother. "With Faren newly married, I don't want to get in the way. That's why I'm trying to get this place in shape. If the basics are covered in a few weeks, I should be fine."

"That still doesn't explain why Ander and your father aren't helping you out more."

Peeta looked at his feet. "Ander's always fallen in line with whatever our mother says. He'll do anything to shy away from conflict. My dad's the same. And Ander's not going to do anything to risk his place at the bakery. He has children to think about."

"That's ridiculous! She can't afford to send you _and_ Ander packing, so there no way he'd lose his position! And certainly your father, _the baker_ , isn't in any danger of losing his place there!"

"Are you asking me for a _reason_ why my father never stands up to her?" Peeta demanded, clearly agitated. "I've been searching for one my whole life, and I've never figured it out. That's just the way it is, okay?" His expression was both challenging and wounded at once. Katniss was shocked into silence, not by the outburst itself, but by the pain that had surfaced. He hid it so well, but Peeta was truly hurt, as she'd expected.

"How's the job search going?" Faren asked quietly, clearly trying to redirect the conversation.

Peeta shook his head, visibly worn. "Not well," he admitted. "No one seems to need help on a regular basis. That, or they don't want to associate with me and alienate my mother. Everyone needs bread, after all."

"You'll find something," Faren assured, patting him on the shoulder. "Just keep looking." Katniss scoffed at his certainty and shook her head.

"I've got to get back to the shop. Tell me if I can get you anything else that would help you with this disaster," Faren joked. "And if you need an actual roof over your head for a night or two, we'll sneak you above the shop."

Faren started back toward town, leaving Katniss and Peeta standing together awkwardly.

He was still upset from the earlier conversation, she could see. Katniss ached to just touch him, comfort him somehow, but she didn't feel like it was allowed.

"You've got a dandelion petal in your hair," she said.

Peeta brushed at the waves above his forehead. "Is it gone?"

"I'll get it," she said, trying to keep her voice flat and unaffected.

She stepped closer, and flicked at the imaginary flower petal. Under the pretense of brushing it away, she wove her fingers briefly into his hair, hoping to comfort him just a little bit.

Peeta closed his eyes and leaned closer into her. For just a moment, she let him rest his cheek against her palm. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"I miss you," he whispered.

"I miss you too, but that doesn't matter. You have to go back."

She could feel him shaking his head even as he pulled back.

"Not a chance," he said ruefully.

Katniss handed him the squirrel and bread she'd brought before turning to go. At least he didn't look so burdened anymore. Just tired.

When she reached the road, Faren was still in sight, bent over to tie a shoelace. She hurried to catch up with him.

"Were you suggesting earlier that Peeta just needs to _invent_ his way out of this? Because I've been friendless and hopeless in the Seam before, and things don't quite work out that way."

"How'd you get out of that, then?"

"S-someone helped me," she admitted. "Then I figured out a way to survive." Just like Faren had described, she thought sourly. After receiving a little help, she'd discovered a way to eke out survival for herself and her loved ones.

"And Peeta's not exactly friendless, is he?" Faren asked.

"Never," she affirmed fiercely. "But Peeta doesn't have the same abilities I do."

Faren smiled. "Well that would be redundant. I doubt you need that sort of competition. Peeta has abilities of his own, trust me. There's an unbelievable hopefulness to him, but it's not inexhaustible. He could really use someone who believes in him right now. Someone that really matters to him.

Katniss opened her mouth to reply, but Faren wasn't finished.

"I was there that day, Katniss, the day he got a beating for burning bread. Now I didn't see what happened, but I heard my mother screaming at someone in the yard, then at him. I heard the blows and saw his bruises. I saw the way he always looked at you and how the pain didn't matter to him. I also saw you and your sister come back from the dead in the months that followed.

"Now Peeta's the one trying to get away from something that's almost certainly inescapable, trying to break free from our mother's influence and become self-sufficient. I'm not sure, but I think somehow Peeta was part of your solution all those years ago. Maybe you need to be part of his."

Faren said no more, heading on his way. Katniss was left to turn and follow the road to the Seam, passing Peeta's pet project again in the process.

By this time, he'd stacked crates by the side of the little house and climbed up onto the roof. He was arranging planks of wood taken from other crates to repair the gaps as she walked past, nails held in between his lips and hammer secured in his belt. The sun was directly overhead, and his hair shone gold in the light.

Her breath caught at the sight. He was still trying, still pushing ahead with little to no encouragement, like a weed pushed through seemingly impenetrable pavement. All to renew something everyone had left behind.

No one tried to keep dandelions from rooting in the meadow, because it was impossible. Whenever the seeds had first blown into Twelve from the forest, the weeds had been tolerated, even welcomed, for the bright, useful plants they were.

Maybe Faren was right. Maybe she needed to find a way to be part of his solution, not an obstacle in his path any longer.

* * *

Her change of heart may have been too late, she realized a couple of days later.

She had stopped by Madge's, and was re-entering the town square, when she spotted Peeta descending the steps of the Justice Building, boots and helmet in hand.

Her heart dropped into her stomach and she stopped walking. Everyone in Twelve knew what it meant to come home with those two items. For many in the Seam, it was a rite of passage, one that signaled entry into adulthood as much as aging out of the Reaping. Young men and women were welcomed home with many embraces and pats on the back, as they celebrated the future income a contract with the mines would provide.

 _Not him_ , an implacable voice inside her insisted.

She'd caught up with him in moments.

"Peeta, you can't."

He turned briefly to look at her, then exhaled in frustration and kept walking.

"I think I've heard more than enough about what I can't do from you, Katniss. You want nothing to do with me, remember? Just take care of yourself."

"Don't do this. You'll find something else."

He let out a humorless laugh.

"You know I won't. You were right, okay? There is nothing else. I tried. This is my last shot, so I'd appreciate it if you just minded your own business."

She shook her head and hurried to keep up with him. He was clearly trying to shake her.

"We'll figure something out. Anything is better than the mines-"

" _We'll_ figure something out? That's rich, Katniss. As if we're some kind of team, when you've done everything you can to keep me at a distance."

"I changed my mind! I want to help."

By now they were feet from the shack, and Peeta stopped, turning to face her.

She met his stare, bracing for his scrutiny.

"Well, that's great Katniss. Except it doesn't matter, because there really is no work. The closest I've gotten has been hauling slag for the shingle maker, and that was just to get free reign over the broken shingles. No one has any money to spare for labor.

"Of course I'm happy if you actually want to talk to me again, but not if it's about the mines. I'm going tomorrow, and that's final." He looked at her hopefully. "So, what's it going to be? Do you want to be close again?"

Katniss furrowed her forehead in frustration. Why did he have to make things so hard?

"I just need to know you won't go down there."

Peeta shook his head incredulously in exhaled in disbelief.

"See you around, Katniss," he said, and turned to walk inside.

By the time she'd reached home, Katniss had imagined every possible mine-related death befalling Peeta. She'd mentally relived the months following her father's death, but this time, it was as an adult that she suffered, frozen with grief at the loss of Peeta. She imagined Twelve without him, and the already gray specter of Panem's poorest district seemed more barren, more hopeless.

So Peeta was stubborn. Well, so was she. Peeta was driven, no question. But she doubted he was as driven as her.

Shortly after Katniss had taken her coat off and set her game bag on a nearby chair, Prim passed through the kitchen on her way to feed Lady. Peering over Katniss' shoulder, the younger Everdeen saw a squirrel laid out on the table.

"It's a little early to prepare dinner, don't you think?"

"This one's for Peeta" Katniss answered shortly.

Prim smiled warmly. "He's so lucky to have you looking out for him, Katniss."

Katniss sighed impatiently. "Weren't you on your way to feed Lady?"

Prim furrowed her eyebrows. She knew her sister was worried about the youngest Mellark, but Katniss never usually let her frustrations color the way they interacted at home. "Yeah," she answered, exiting the kitchen.

Katniss paused while skinning the carcass, watching Prim approach Lady's hut. It was now or never.

When Lady was fed, Prim returned inside, surprised to find the squirrel still on the table, but the kitchen empty.

Shrugging it off, Prim walked to the shared bedroom, intending to freshen up in front of their cracked mirror before going to visit with Rory. When she opened the door, Katniss was just stepping away from one of the boxes their mother kept stocked with extra healing supplies.

"Is everything okay Katniss? Did you need help finding something?"

"Nope," the dark haired girl replied, "Just replenishing some supplies with what I gathered today." Katniss slipped past Prim on her way out of the room, hand secured over her pocket.

Prim fixed her hair, dabbed some homemade flower water behind her ears, and pinched her cheeks for a little added color, before heading out of her room. The kitchen was empty again, but this time the squirrel was gone too. In its place, there was one of her mother's syringes, half depressed and filled with clear liquid. Next to it was a bottle of sleep syrup with the seal broken.

Prim ran to the window, worried, but no one was in sight on the road. Katniss hadn't mentioned where Peeta was staying, so there was no following her. Prim gnawed at her lip as she returned the bottle to her mother's supplies. She sure hoped Katniss knew what she was doing.

Back at the ramshackle house, Katniss knocked on Peeta's newly realigned door. The hinges looked new but homemade, no doubt the work of Faren's metalworking, and the edges of the wood itself were rough hewn. He must have shaved or sanded them down to counteract the warping of the wood.

Katniss took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves and gather herself. She looked down at the packet of squirrel meat she'd wrapped up. Normally, she'd just leave it on the doorstep, but after injecting the meat with sleep syrup in several places, she had to account for the sweet taste that would result. And it had to be convincing. There was no room for error, if she was going to save Peeta from the mines.

The door swung open. His surprise at seeing her again so soon was evident.

"Katniss. Look, if you're here to try to convince me not to show up tomorrow-"

"It's not about that," she said, shaking her head and holding out the wrapped package and the loaf of bread his father had entrusted her with.

"I know I usually just drop these off, but I have to explain about the game. Um, with winter coming, Prim was trying to salt some meat, but she grabbed the sugar instead. Must have been daydreaming about Rory again," Katniss paused and tried to give a convincingly wry smile. "So, the meat is going to taste strangely sweet. It's practically ruined, but you've got to eat something, so you may as well eat this."

Katniss held her breath and stared straight into his eyes, waiting to see if he'd believe her. She hoped against hope his family had either bought meat pre-salted during the winter months, or Mrs. Mellark had done it by herself. This all counted on Peeta not knowing how long the salting process took. Or in this case, 'sugaring.'

Peeta reached out to take the meat from her hands, but paused. "I thought you rarely have sugar at your house."

"Someone paid my mother with it," she countered impatiently, before pushing the package further into his hands. Why wasn't he taking it? "Beggars can't be choosers, right?"

Peeta narrowed his eyes and his mouth quirked upwards.

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss."

Her stomach dropped.

"No way would someone as smart and thrifty as an Everdeen mistake that much sugar for salt. Not when you practically never have it.

"I think you did this on purpose. You feel bad about how we left things, and you needed an excuse to come talk instead of leaving it on the step and then scurrying away."

"I don't _scurry_ ," she interjected testily. She couldn't believe he was buying it. Was this really going to work?

Peeta smiled softly at her. "You _do_ want to be close again, I knew it. But you're too stubborn to just waltz up and admit you've changed your mind, so you sugared a squirrel and pinned it on poor little Prim," he chuckled. "I hope you didn't use up too much of it."

He looked so happy at the thought of her contriving a reason to come talk to him, the guilt felt like one of her arrows was lancing through her chest. Katniss shook her head. "It's fine. There's plenty." There hadn't been a single sugar granule in her house this whole time. She hated lying, so she tempered it with the truth. "I- I do want to be close again."

"Well, why don't you come in and share this squirrel with me? We can catch up. I have exactly one fork, and it's all yours," he added with a wink, as if that was an inducement.

"I can't, um, Prim's making dinner."

Peeta nodded in understanding. "Another time then. You can't resist me forever, after all," he said, waggling his eyebrows before darting forward to drop a daring kiss on her cheek. She smiled and gave him a playful shove. He barely moved. Peeta was so solid…had she used enough syrup?

"Just eat the damn squirrel!" she ordered in jest, stepping off the stoop.

"Yes ma'am!" he replied agreeably. "And thank you." He went inside, closing the door behind him.

Peeta was never going to forgive her. Katniss felt like she was going to be sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Bites nails) So what do you think of Katniss' actions? There's canon precedent for her drugging Peeta with sleep syrup to keep him safe, but that was in the arena! It certainly has much more problematic connotations in Twelve. To non-reaped!Katniss, I think the mines would seem insidious, and she'd irrationally equate them with certain death, in relation to people she loves. Makes me think of the One Hour Photo quote: "The things we fear the most have already happened to us."
> 
> But that certainly doesn't excuse it! Tell me your thoughts before you continue on to part two!


	8. Stoop (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAIT! This is part TWO of chapter seven, posted concurrently with part one! If you're a return reader (bless you), you may need to click back to the previous chapter. Be sure you've read that first.
> 
> The unforeseen benefit of splitting a chapter is that I can double the length of my author notes. You poor souls.
> 
> Before we continue, I absolutely have to thank the amazing Porchwood for pre-reading at a time when I was terrified this was total crap. You are sweet beyond compare and so generous with your time, lady! Thank you!

He hadn't added a lock to the door yet. Being an outsider to both classes now, having one would be a necessity. She'd have to mention it to Faren, because she was pretty sure Peeta wouldn't be trusting advice from her anytime soon.

After she'd eased his door open and stepped inside, Katniss waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. He'd done a lot already; she was impressed. The walls and roof were patched, excluding the gaping hole where the fallen chimney belonged. The rooms were cleared and even looked to be swept. The blanket Madge had given him was folded neatly by the crumbling fireplace, where a makeshift spit stood over the smoking embers of a little fire. The opening in the roof was acting as a flue - Katniss could see the wisps of smoke drifting up and out into the night air.

His form was hunched over an uneven kitchen table. One of the legs had clearly once been part of a fence rail. She could see the half-eaten remnants of the squirrel by his elbow. Katniss drew closer and peered at his sleeping face. His breathing was even and his eyelids weren't flickering. Peeta appeared to be deep in dreamless sleep.

Still, he was so big, Katniss couldn't be sure how long the dose would last. If all went well, he would sleep well into the afternoon and miss the majority of his first day on the job. If he woke sooner…well, that was why she was here now.

She knew the foreman that trained new miners, and he was a stern Seam resident. He valued hard work and dependability. It was likely he'd had reservations when Peeta had been accepted for work in the mines. Merchants were thought to be lazy and only suited to soft work. It wouldn't sit well with him _or_ the other miners Peeta would be working with if a merchant shirked their first day of work. Hopefully, they'd decide they had no use for him.

She had to find Peeta's mining gear. It couldn't be that hard, even in the dark. The room was practically empty. Still, Katniss lingered at his side, watching Peeta for a moment. She missed him so much. Being so close, after distancing herself for so long, just made all her feelings for him well up, putting her at a loss.

Katniss wished she could just lay next to him on these uncertain nights, watching him sleep for any amount of time. She wanted to hide away in this hut with him, and be forgotten by everyone else. Of course, nothing about that wish was feasible. But it didn't escape her that in those rare moments she allowed herself to daydream, there had never been a scenario that involved staying in Twelve before.

Katniss went to gather the folded comforter, intending to place it around him in case he got cold. Right next to it she saw the helmet and fixed lamp all miners wore to work. Covering him with the blanket, she couldn't resist gently sweeping the curls that had fallen over his forehead away from his face. Even if he never spoke to her again, this was well worth it. She would protect him from whatever she could.

She pressed a feather light kiss into his wayward curls, then stooped to collect his helmet. Near the door, Katniss found his standard-issue boots, which she grabbed. The ones he'd always worn, with the laces she'd given him, were next to them. To be safe, she picked those up as well. No way could Peeta show up tomorrow barefoot and bareheaded.

Katniss eased the door open and turned back to look at her boy, slumped over and snoring lightly. "Who can't lie, Peeta?" she asked the stillness. When silence answered, she somberly replied, "I'm sorry," and disappeared into the night.

* * *

The late afternoon sun made the patchy weeds choking the dirt lot in front of the shack glow gold. After seeing all the work he'd done on it, perhaps she should think of it as Peeta's now. She was still torn between wanting him to be safe back in town, and accepting that maybe he _could_ survive here, with her help. If he'd ever accept it from her after this.

She sat on the sunken stoop and idly counted the additional dandelions that had already sprung out of the pockmarked ground, their proliferation undoubtedly owing to Peeta's efforts. The district was quiet, everyone else was either at school, working in town or at the Hob, or down in the mines. But Peeta wasn't, she thought with relief.

Katniss had been listening for sounds of movement from within the dilapidated little structure, but so far, none had been forthcoming. Once he woke up, Peeta would figure out what had happened. She wasn't going to run from the fallout. Katniss had brought his boots with her - the ones he used to wear at the bakery, not the ones he'd been given for the mines. She'd return those to whatever Justice Building department issued them.

Once he had his shoes back, would Peeta pack up and head back to the bakery? He'd said himself that were no employment opportunities, and she knew he'd explored every nonexistent option and possibility. Or would Peeta still refuse to give up? There was a nervous doubt niggling inside her that this might be the case. He might stay anyway. And in that case, outside of tossing him handouts, Katniss just didn't know how she'd help him.

Her worries were punctuated by a crash and curse from within the house, clearly audible through windows that had more broken panes than whole ones. There were more sounds of banging and panicked movement, as well as a few dismayed exclamations, before the warped door was flung wide open behind her, and Peeta rushed out onto the threshold.

His trajectory was derailed by Katniss, whom he was not expecting to be occupying the doorstep. In an attempt to avoid colliding with her, Peeta jumped to the side, missed the next stair, and tripped his way down the few steps, ending up in an inelegant heap on the ground.

He looked positively wild: all sleep-tousled and panicked, as his eyes swept over the sky with dread, noting the blue skies and golden light of the afternoon. His hair was askew, his clothes crooked, and of course, he was shoeless.

Peeta righted himself but didn't get up, sitting amongst the dandelions around his stoop and looking disheveled, disheartened, and confused. He rubbed his hands over face. "How did I sleep so long?" he lamented. "The last thing I remember, I was eating dinner…" Peeta paused and lowered his hands, his gaze penetrating.

"Katniss," he said carefully, clearly expending effort to remain calm. "I've woken up at dawn every day of my life for the better part of two decades. How did this happen?"

"I- I gave you sleep syrup."

His eyes were pained and bewildered at her tremulous confession. She felt the sharp stab of guilt lodge between her ribs.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice rising with distress.

"So you'd miss your shift at the mine," she whispered. His expression was one of betrayal, and he shook his head in denial.

"You can't go down there, Peeta!" she burst out. Her eyes were burning with tears. "You don't understand-"

"No Katniss, _you_ don't understand," he interrupted vehemently. You have no idea, do you? Of the gravity of what you've done?"

Peeta rose to his feet angrily. "You drugged me!" he shouted. "So I'd fall in line with what you want! Occupy whatever little spot you've relegated me to."

"It's not like that!" she insisted, jumping to her feet, but Peeta just continued right over her.

"You acted like you cared about me! But the second I deviate from what you think I'm supposed to be, or what I'm allowed to do, you lay a _trap_ for me Katniss? Then lure me into it like some unsuspecting animal?" He looked disgusted at the very thought.

Katniss had never seen Peeta so angry before. And she felt horrible, because he was right. She _had_ corralled him, without his knowledge, into a situation of her design, one in which he could not win. Just like one of the snares Gale had taught her. The truth of it was chilling, but the reason for it was key.

She reached for his hand, desperate to repair things. "It was because I care, and I was so worried, that I couldn't let you-"

"Don't!" Peeta warned, pulling his hand away. "You're still not getting it. 'You couldn't let me'- you're still thinking about it in terms of what you will and won't allow. I decide about things that affect me Katniss, not you.

"I get that you're used to calling all the shots, but I'm supposed to be someone who _matters_ to you, and you just treated me like less than a person."

She couldn't stop her tears from falling at his words.

"I'm staying here. With or without your approval. If you can't stand the idea, then I guess I'll just see you in the crowd at future Reapings. No matter how much that will pain me, I'm not going back."

He pushed past her as he ascended the stairs, but paused at the door. "I'm so tired Katniss. I'm tired of people trying to control me. Now that I'm out from under her thumb, I won't slink back under it - or anyone else's either."

He pulled the door firmly closed behind him without another word.

Katniss stood there for a good ten minutes, unmoving, just letting his fury wash over her. She'd anticipated this outcome, and thought she was ready for his anger - It was a small price to pay for his safety.

But she hadn't counted on the way she'd feel when she saw the shock in his eyes at her betrayal. She'd abused his trust. Peeta had always tried to look out for her, in whatever way he could. He'd become her companion, an immovable constant she relied on when she felt lost. He was dear to her beyond measure. And now she'd given him ample reason to despise her. Why shouldn't he?

Katniss angrily swiped at the wetness on her face. Her composure had been completely undone by the hurt and disappointment that came with his understanding. It had been radiating off him, and it pierced her like an arrow.

She turned woodenly back to the Seam. Every step felt hollow. It was without question the worst thing she'd ever done to someone. She hated what she did, and was filled with remorse over the way she'd made him feel. But she couldn't honestly say that given the chance, she'd change what she'd done.

Whether he hated her or not, Peeta was whole, and safe. At least for the moment.

* * *

Katniss felt worn out when she returned home. Deciding she could afford to take a nap before scrounging something up for dinner, she walked to the shared bedroom. Hopefully she could shed some of the despondency she was feeling with a little sleep.

But the bed was already occupied. When Katniss entered the room, it was to find Primrose huddled up with a pillow, eyes brimming with tears.

"Prim! What's wrong?" Katniss rushed to her side and sank down to sit beside her.

Prim took a deep breath and sniffled. "I'm okay. Rory and I just had a fight."

Katniss bit her lip. What a day for the both of them. "Are you okay? Would it help to talk about it?"

Prim shrugged halfheartedly. Katniss trailed her fingers comfortingly through Prim's hair until she was ready to talk.

"Hazelle was delivering her clients' laundry, and Vick took Posy to the meadow. It was really nice to just have some alone time with Rory, so I started talking about getting toasted. He thinks we should wait at least a year until he's settled into a job at the mine."

A few more fat tears dropped onto Prim's cheeks, and she rubbed at her runny nose forlornly.

Katniss stayed silent, waiting for more of the story. When there didn't seem to be anything additional, she answered with an awkward, but sympathetic, "Oh."

"And I don't know, I just don't want to wait!" Prim elaborated in a watery voice. "What's the point? I know I want to toast with Rory, and I know what I'm going to do when I age out of the Reaping. I'm going to help Mom with healing. Why shouldn't we start down that road as soon as we can?"

"Did he tell you why he wants to wait?" Katniss asked.

"I think he's nervous about whether we'll be able to support ourselves. He wants to make sure it will be possible before we start our own household together."

That seemed pretty reasonable to Katniss.

"But he's not even taking what I'll get from healing into account! I have to show him that it can work." Prim fiddled with the corner of the pillow for a moment. "And if I can't convince him, I guess I'll just be waiting for who knows how long," she concluded glumly.

"Why is it so important to you to get toasted right away?"

Prim smoothed the bed sheets down as she considered the question. "I've seen a lot of what can happen down in the mines when working with Mom. And I remember losing Dad. I know more than most that you have to grab every good thing with both hands where you can, and hold on for as long as time allows before it slips through your fingers. So a year plus of waiting around for nothing seems such a waste."

"What about you?" Prim asked, breaking her from her reverie.

"Huh?"

Prim nodded toward her face. "Your eyes are just as red as mine. Trying day?"

Oh. Katniss pulled at the pilled fabric of their worn coverlet as she debated whether to tell Prim. She was too ashamed to mention the details, but soon enough, all her worries were pouring out. "I messed up, Prim. I've been trying to push Peeta away, and it didn't work. So I did something awful, something I had to, and now I think I've really lost him. Except, now that it's done, I'm terrified he'll leave me behind."

"Why would you want to push Peeta away?" Prim asked, confused.

"To make things better for him."

"Do you really think he'd consider things better without you?"

"No," Katniss admitted hoarsely. "Easier, then."

Prim shook her head in disapproval. "'Easier' is pointless. Things worth having are worth fighting for."

Katniss couldn't help but think it sounded like something Peeta would say. There was a determination he and Prim shared, to wrest every possible bright spot from life, despite the district in which they lived.

She'd thought she could give him up for his own sake, but now that their bond was seriously in question, Katniss didn't think she could bear it if he slipped through her fingers.

"I wish I was wise like you, Little Duck," Katniss sighed.

"That's also why Peeta will forgive you, whatever you did. He knows your worth, so he'll fight to keep you. Just tell him how you feel and why you did what you did, and things will fall into place."

Katniss snorted. "How do you know that?"

"Because I'm sure whatever you did, you did because it seemed the best way to protect him at the time. You tend to do that with people you love."

Prim laughed at the startled look on her sister's face.

"So I think you need to apologize, and you need to let Peeta be around you if he wants. That, and stay away from syringes and sleep syrup in the foreseeable future," Prim added dryly.

Katniss blinked in surprise. "How did you-"

"Who did you think put the sleep syrup back? You were in such a hurry to do goodness knows what, you left them right out on the table." Prim shook her head in exasperation.

"Not everything is 'life or death,' Katniss," Prim admonished gently. "I know it's hard for you to stop thinking like that, because of how things were, but they're different now. And I think they'll stay different. Things are still tough, but try and remember that circumstances aren't usually as dire as you think they are."

Katniss stared down at her lap, feeling the truth of Prim's words wash over her. At the first hint of difficulty, she'd reverted back to the visceral, wary person she'd been for much of her youth. Perceiving that Peeta was at risk, she'd reacted instinctively to ensure his survival, but not properly considered the impact of her actions.

"Do you really think he'll still want to be around me?"

Prim rolled her eyes. "Peeta couldn't stay away from you if he tried. And if you don't know why, you're beyond even my help."

Katniss bit her lip, feeling a flicker of hope rekindle in her breast. She really hoped Prim was right, and things could be repaired between them. She had a lot to make up for, but trying was absolutely worth it.

She glanced up and smiled gratefully at Prim. "You should charge for your advice, Little Duck. You'd have enough for that household in no time."

Prim smiled impishly. "Well in that case, that'll cost you one compliment about Buttercup."

Katniss groaned, but inside she was smiling. There was hope for her and Peeta, and Prim was giggling again.

* * *

The next morning, she headed straight to Peeta's house, determined to at least take the first steps toward making things right. And yes, she told herself, it _was_ Peeta's house now.

Katniss had spent the night trying to look at things in a different light. She wanted to help Peeta. She had to support him, not push him in the direction she thought was right. When viewing the situation with this perspective, where she was a partner to him and not a caretaker, the solution had been surprisingly obvious.

She would to show Peeta that she recognized and respected his choices. She would prove she trusted him to do what was best. Then maybe she could earn his trust back.

She was here. Katniss closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves. She knocked.

After several endless moments, Peeta opened the door. She held out his boots, which he took without a word before moving to go back inside.

"Hear me out, okay?"

He pursed his lips, but waited for her to keep speaking. It was more than she'd hoped for.

"What I did was wrong, you're right. And I know that telling you how sorry I am isn't enough. Neither is saying I would do anything to make it up to you, which is true. But I want you to know the reason for it. You think I'm just trying to assert myself, or maintain control, but that's not the case. I know you've had more than enough of that to last a lifetime."

He gave a slight nod in agreement, and she continued.

"My father was the liveliest man I ever met. Wisdom and kindness shone from him, and he always had a song or bit of folklore on his lips. He was a gifted singer, a talented hunter, and enjoyed more freedom than most in the Seam, or even Twelve. He married the woman of his dreams and loved his daughters more than life itself."

Katniss swallowed back the lump in her throat. She had to get this out.

"All that going for him, and the mines still nearly broke him every week. The man who left each morning was long gone by the time he came back in the evening. It hollowed him out, stole his hope and crushed his spirit. Then it outright killed him."

It was clear to see on his face that Peeta was hurting for her. She bit her trembling lip and continued.

"I've never seen a man with such a...a light about them as he had. Except for you. I saw you leaving the Justice Building with that helmet and those boots, and I knew I would do anything to keep your spark from being snuffed out."

Peeta opened his mouth as if to argue, so she rushed on.

"It wasn't just to get my way, or prove you wrong, or even to send you back home. It was because I care about you, because you matter to me, that I did it. If anything happened to you down there, if there was a cave in or explosion that left you trapped or killed, I'd be lost too. I need you, and my mind could never stray from the hellish chambers that held you for long. I would still be there for Prim, but...I don't know how much else would be left."

Katniss wondered suddenly if that's where her mother's mind had gone for all those years, down the pitch black shafts to where her husband died.

She glanced up to see his reaction. Peeta's eyes had softened, his forehead furrowed in sadness and concern for her. He swayed forward, just for a moment, before drawing back and putting his hands resolutely at his sides. Katniss felt warmed by the knowledge that he'd been tempted to gather her into his arms.

"I need you to be okay. And you need to be free unto yourself. I get that. I can even help with that."

Peeta hadn't been expecting that last part, she could tell.

"You should come into the forest with me. I can teach you to hunt and snare, or you can forage. There'll be enough game to split between us. Winter will be lean, but with you picking up some of Gale's slack, it just might work.

"Just…just keep in mind the punishment for leaving the district. That's not a risk I ever want you to take, but…I realize now that's not my decision."

She lowered her eyes to her feet as she nervously waited for his answer.

"I'll do it." There was no indecision in his voice. "Gladly."

Katniss nodded briskly and continued on, all business, "There's a hole in the far side of the fence in the Meadow, behind a clump of bushes. Listen to make sure there's no hum of electricity before crawling under. I'll watch for you at dawn from the tree line."

She paused uncomfortably. "I know you don't exactly have much reason to trust me after what I did. So this time you keep _my_ boots. You know I'm not going to go off into the woods without you now."

And with that, Katniss kicked off her hunting boots and removed her socks, tucking them into the pocket of her trousers. "See you tomorrow, hunting partner."

Giving him a last, repentant glance, Katniss turned away, walking out to the dirt road with bare feet, her hunting boots on his doorstep.

* * *

Katniss was captivated. He was so out of place, but in the most wonderful way. Peeta walked through the forest with her, clearly awestruck by his surroundings. He wandered through dappled patches of sunlight, taking in the fall foliage, as Katniss followed behind.

She felt as though she was introducing him to an old friend, and as someone irreplaceable in her life, Peeta's delight was gratifying. He may not recognize the abundance and bounty of his surroundings yet, but he certainly appreciated their beauty.

"Oh, if I only had my sketchbook and paints! Even just a nub of charcoal would do. But I don't think I could ever capture the _feel_ of it."

Katniss smiled to herself. That made three such exclamations in as many minutes. He looked back at her happily, and she could see the moment he remembered her recent actions, and the divide between them. His excitement wilted like a flower in extreme heat.

"Well," he said, "we'd better start. We're burning daylight."

It quickly became apparent, however, that Peeta had lead feet. No matter how lightly he thought he was treading, Katniss knew Peeta wouldn't be sneaking up on game any time soon. This wasn't a setback, however. Between the two of them, they already had an expert hunter and tracker. What Katniss needed was someone to maintain the series of snares that ran through her section of the woods. She'd abandoned entire sections of it just because she didn't have time to cover all that ground.

But now they could hopefully reclaim all that territory and increase their hauls significantly. She'd have more time to forage, which Peeta could help with, and maybe there would even be time for the occasional trip to the lake. Having seen him intently working on tiny, precise details when icing cakes in the past, Katniss knew Peeta would have no trouble being still for long periods of time, so he could help her fish too.

And despite the tension between them, Peeta was pleasant, professional, and eager to help overall. After a few days of instruction, while watching her set a snare and then trying to replicate the steps, he disrupted the silence that seemed to settle over them now.

"I get why you did that. I do. It was wrong, and it can't ever happen again, but I understand why."

Katniss knew she still wasn't forgiven, but it was a starting point. The atmosphere between them lightened a little, and Peeta continued learning. She taught him where to look for markers that would lead him from snare to snare. She explained why they'd chosen particular areas and certain types of snares, based on the types of animals that frequented the area. Sharing this part of her life with Peeta was something Katniss had never expected, but she found it immensely pleasing, even considering the strain that still existed between them.

* * *

After Peeta had adequately familiarized himself with the snare line, Katniss decided it was time to start teaching him the basics of foraging. She started with the first lesson her father had ever given her in the forest, the dangers of nightlock. She plucked a ripe sloe, holding it in her right hand, and then gathered a nightlock berry, keeping it in her left palm. Returning to Peeta, she showed him the berries.

Peeta took to plant identification quickly. She imagined he must have cultivated an attention to detail when painting. The increase in flora collected and game bagged brought in more money, and Katniss couldn't help but think they made an excellent team. When they met behind the fence each day, she gave Peeta an exhaustive accounting of what she'd managed to get for each trade the day before, then gave him his share.

She knew Peeta was continuing to make what small repairs he could to the house in his free time, and she was terribly curious about how it was going. But she wanted to give him space, so she didn't pry, and merely looked for outward changes as she passed on her way to town each day.

He was always on the lookout for smooth, round stones to patch the chimney with, so Katniss kept an eye out and helped him collect any she found. Little by little, Peeta began to warm to her again, and they began conversing more when together.

* * *

They quickly fell into a routine. Half of their time in the woods was spent apart, him checking and resetting snares, and her tracking and felling wildlife.

When it was time to forage, though, they worked together. Perhaps they could have divided the work, Peeta had a basic working knowledge of common species that were worth collecting by now, but shared tasks were an opportunity for Katniss to mend things between them.

And even discounting how she felt about him, Peeta was a joy to work with. He was enthusiastic about everything she showed him, and dauntless when obstacles presented themselves. He had a wonderful sense of humor about his own mistakes, and the patience required to correct them.

While collecting edible roots by a stream, Katniss shyly showed him some of the clays she'd used for his paints. He asked her which berries yielded the best colors, and when she showed him, Peeta wondered about making food dyes as well.

When Peeta inadvertently walked through a patch of poison ivy to avoid some brambles, Katniss brought a vial of her mother's soothing lotion to his door that evening.

When she went to dab some on her arm, intending to demonstrate that it was in fact medicinal and nothing nefarious, Peeta stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"Katniss, stop. You don't have to prove anything to me with the lotion. I trust you."

She was floored. She hadn't dared to hope she might regain his trust again so soon.

"You don't have to account for every single step of your trades, either. I know you'll give me a fair share of the money. I'm still upset about what happened," he added, "But I do trust you. With my life."

She nodded her understanding, vowing to herself that she'd continue earning what he'd generously granted her. "I trust you too," she answered softly, twisting the cap back on the bottle of lotion. There was hope for them yet. "With my life."

* * *

It was a turning point, of sorts, and as the weeks went by, it felt like they were truly friends again.

She told him every story she could recall about the times she and her father had spent in the forest, and even some of the funnier ones involving Gale. Peeta listened with rapt attention, laughing appreciatively at all the right moments. She couldn't help but wonder if he was just being amicable, or if he still felt the draw between them that she did.

They fished in a nearby stream, and while waiting for the bait to attract the fish, Katniss identified birdcalls to him, making him whistle them back to her. They were reclining on the stream bank and laughing over how silly some of his failed attempts were, when their eyes met mid-laugh. Suddenly, the feel of the moment changed completely, and their laughter drained away.

Katniss felt breathless with exhilaration, but Peeta broke their eye contact and sat up, fiddling with the fishing line. The atmosphere cooled, and the moment passed. Katniss chewed her lip as she tried to redirect her thoughts.

He was so appealing to her, as ever, that it was hard not to dwell on the fact that they were finally completely alone. But things were clearly still off between them.

So instead she focused on how proud she was of his progress, and silently celebrated each new sign of the accord between gradually patching itself up. When she handed him a new plant to memorize, he took it from her normally, no longer trying to awkwardly prevent their hands from brushing. When she went to correct the way he was resetting snares, he let her guide his hands through the motions.

If he spotted a bird perched nearby, Peeta would lay a hand on her shoulder, silently getting her attention so she could identify it for him. And when Katniss boosted herself up the trunk of a tree, Peeta always kept a hand resting on her back to brace her against a fall as she raised herself to the first branch, even though she didn't need him to.

Being in the woods with him, she saw him damp with sweat, and dirty from trudging through underbrush, often with leaves and twigs in his clothes and hair. There was nothing that didn't look good on Peeta, she thought. Exertion suited him.

Katniss found it hard to look away, and soon the periods she hunted apart from Peeta became necessary to regroup, time when she reminded herself that it was pointless to be jealous of every little bit of forest debris that lodged itself in the waves of his hair, and that much as she wanted to, she couldn't just walk up Peeta and take his hand, or kiss him. She'd ruined so much.

But lately, she'd noted with both relief and excitement, some of the times she glanced at Peeta out of the corner of her eye, he was looking at her too.

Finally, one glorious autumn afternoon, he paused while pulling up a giant puffball and looked up at her. "I can't believe this is edible."

She was supposed to be helping, but after she'd confirmed earlier that acorns could be ground into flour, and saw his whole face light up with future plans, Katniss had been having trouble tearing her gaze away from the curve of his bottom lip. "Yeah, as long as they're still white inside," she answered. "They're pretty good fried. But what's really good is chicken of the woods."

"Chicken of the woods?"

"Oh, you'll know it when you see it. It's this light orangey-yellow fungus that grows in shelves on rotting trees. Sometimes it's huge, and _everywhere_. Anyways, if you get a good batch, it tastes like chicken. A little lemony. I make a mean chicken of the woods soup. I'll bring you some, one of these days."

Peeta was watching her with a smile, and didn't look away even after she'd finished. "You know, I forgive you. I forgave you a while ago. So…it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

And practically before she knew it, Katniss was tugging him closer by the neck of his shirt, and doing just that. Voracious as she felt, this was by no means easy. Peeta wouldn't stop laughing over her reaction, but she persevered. Before long, his hands were at her side, fingers clutching her hunting coat in an attempt to pull her closer as well.

It was like coming home. Or what coming home _should_ be, but wasn't, in District Twelve. She felt instantly safe, and there was a sense of belonging that rivaled even the feeling she got in her woods. She never wanted to give this up again. She needed Peeta.

After that, their days in the woods, which had already been some of the pleasantest in Katniss' memory, quickly became wonderful to her. When he entered the tree line each morning, Katniss greeted Peeta with a kiss, and stole another before they parted ways each afternoon. It became increasingly difficult for either of them to stay on task when foraging.

Their hauls were decent, and Peeta could carry much more game back to the district than she'd been able to. As the leaves fell in her forest, she continued making amends as they grew closer, and Peeta kept making what thrifty improvements he could manage on the ramshackle house.

* * *

The early days of October were like a second summer. Katniss and Peeta spent extra time outside the fence, trying to take advantage of the weather and to make the most of the fruits of the season.

When it began to drizzle one afternoon, Katniss decided to find Peeta and tell him to wait it out. Working through a light rain wasn't a problem, but the clouds darkening the sky overhead indicated there was some heavy precipitation ahead. The last thing she wanted was for Peeta to lose his way trying to locate the marker for their next snare. He was still fairly new to this.

The rain felt nice, and when Katniss located him, he was still working on snares, as she'd predicted. The waves of his hair hung heavily on his head, waterlogged by the rain.

"Peeta!" she called. He stopped and looked up.

"Come with me."

She led him to a nearby deer blind that she and Gale had set up. It wasn't water tight, but it would be a little more comfortable as they waited for the shower to pass. She crouched down and crawled inside, sidling over to make room for Peeta.

It wasn't very big - it had been constructed to conceal Gale and her, and Peeta seemed to take up a good deal more space than her lean, wiry partner had. The inside was damp and earthy, but it was far drier than outside. The crudely constructed canopy of sticks and leaves above shielded them from most of the rain.

Katniss pointed back toward the opening of the blind. "We made this because it's at the crest of a hill that dips into that little valley. It's a good vantage point. See that line in the grass that's sparser than the rest? Deer make trails that they frequently follow to good feeding areas."

"Do you think we'll see one?" Peeta asked.

"Nah. It's possible, but unlikely. The best times are at dawn or dusk."

"Well, you did a good job on the blind," he said admiringly. "It's cozy."

She smiled at him. "Do you still have whatever you brought for lunch with you? Now's a good time to eat, while you're just waiting."

"No, I already stopped to eat. Don't let me stop you, though," Peeta said.

"Actually, I ate, too." They lapsed into silence, and Katniss was content to just sit and listen to the sound of the rain hitting the leaves on top of the blind, then slowly dripping through the canopy. It was a lulling sound.

In such close quarters, Katniss quickly noted Peeta's scent amidst the petrichor. He no longer smelled like cinnamon and the bakery, but like the forest. Even so, it was still so recognizably 'him' that she felt comforted.

So comforted, in fact, that she laid her head on his shoulder. Peeta reached up and smoothed some of the damp strands of hair that had escaped her braid, before his hand came to rest on the nape of her neck. His thumb gently stroked back and forth along the edge of her hairline, occasionally nudging her earlobe. Katniss sighed in contentment and closed her eyes.

She could stay in this moment forever.

Though his shirt was damp from rain, Katniss could feel the heat from his skin radiating through it, and she soaked it in like a lizard on sun-baked stone. After a while of sitting and listening to the rain, Katniss felt the brush of Peeta's lips at her temple and smiled.

He gradually worked his way down to her cheek, then her lips. Cupping her jaw in his palms, he tilted her face up to his, and she gladly acquiesced. Their lips met with a pressure and rhythm that soon had Katniss gasping for breath, and she gripped the hair at the back of his head to keep him close as she scooted to lie down.

Peeta hovered above, continuing his ardent campaign until Katniss was pushing at the waistband of his slacks, trying to nudge the material over his hips without breaking contact. When her tugging on the fabric became insistent, Peeta broke away, panting. "Um. You sure?"

"Mm-Hmm," she nodded breathlessly. "I want to see you."

That was enough encouragement for Peeta. He quickly moved to the side to shuck off his trousers, and Katniss helped him flip his bunched up shirt over his head. Nerves made her movements hesitant, but she reached out to help him draw off his undergarments as well.

He was beautiful.

Her eyes drank in every inch of him while Peeta watched, both amusement and heat in his gaze. She'd seen naked men before. Not in much detail, just glimpses as she'd fled the kitchen where her mother tended patients. But Peeta was different.

He was sturdy, pale, and infinitely appealing. He looked hale and capable, and Katniss found it irresistible. She'd seen him accomplish feats of impressive power, yet perform tasks requiring incredible gentleness. Somehow, it all came together visibly in his form.

She inspected the body before her, relishing every detail she'd never known about. The smattering of hair across his chest, the freckles on his shoulders, little scars and moles, dips and angles and planes and perfection.

She followed the line of hair down from his navel, lowering her gaze to the juncture of his thighs, and what little air existed in the cramped space quickly became charged.

"Katniss," he whispered, even though there was no one to hear him, "you can touch me, you know."

She wet her lips and nodded her head. She knew that.

But where to begin? A water droplet from the canopy overhead splashed down onto Peeta's shoulder, trickling down his arm and drawing her attention. So she started there. Trailing her hand down from shoulder to wrist, her fingertips glanced over the ridges of his musculature on the way. She circled her finger around his wrist bone and traced the veins on the back of his hand, which was resting on his hip. From there, she reached out to tentatively touch him. He was soft. And hard. And so warm. Biting her lip, Katniss looked up to see his reaction to her exploration.

Peeta's eyes were hooded. It made him look drowsy, but his focus was completely honed to what she was doing. He was a study in contradictions: every muscle tensed, yet completely pliant to her ministrations.

"Keep going," he pleaded. She complied, taking hold of him, and the breath stuttered out of his lungs. Katniss wasn't completely clueless, she knew basically what to do, but felt embarrassed nonetheless. She was nervous enough that her movements were uncertain and jerky.

His hand snaked down to cover hers, holding her fingers around him more tightly. "Like this at first," he said, moving their hands back and forth more fluidly, further up and down than she'd been covering.

When she adjusted the rhythm of her strokes, Peeta let go, leaning forward to run his lips over the lines of her neck, nibbling here and there in what she was sure was an attempt drive her crazy. She was breathing almost as heavily as he was. She never thought she'd get this excited just touching him.

Katniss was so caught up in what she was doing and feeling, she almost didn't hear Peeta murmur, "Can I see you?"

She nodded hurriedly, impatient to return to working toward Peeta's release. He slipped her father's coat off her shoulders, and set it carefully to the side before returning to help divest Katniss of the rest of her clothes.

When she was fully nude, Katniss kept her eyes on Peeta, waiting to see his reaction.

"Oh Katniss," he sighed. "You're gorgeous."

She grinned and scooted closer, weaving herself into his embrace. With copious kisses to cheeks and jaw, she picked up where she'd left off. His forehead was soon resting on her shoulder, lolling back and forth as his hands ran over every inch of her he could reach.

Katniss increased the tempo of hand motions, and Peeta's palms settled lower, squeezing at her hips and rear as he got closer and closer.

"Don't stop," he groaned.

She turned her head, nuzzling at his still wet hair. "I won't," she promised breathily. The whisper of her words over his ear was an added sensation he hadn't expected, and it was just enough to send him over the edge. Katniss felt the spill of something warm and wet over the top of her hand, and the next thing she knew Peeta was kissing her ravenously. He reached over and grabbed one of his garments and then took her hand, wiping at it.

When the kiss ended, Peeta moved his hands up to her breasts, cupping and massaging them as Katniss whimpered. He watched raptly as his attention moved to the tips of her breasts. She shivered in delight.

Peeta hooked his arm around her lower back, bracing his hand between her shoulder blades as he hoisted her torso up closer. She arched her back when he trailed little kisses over and between her breasts.

He looked up, meeting her eyes. "Not sure how I'll be able to pay attention to foraging after this. It was hard enough to focus before with you near me, but now I'm definitely going to be thinking of you like this about once every, oh, second?"

The blind was graced with the sound of a pleased giggle. Then he wrapped his mouth around her nipple and she called out at the wet brush of his tongue against the sensitive flesh. Her fingers dove into his hair, holding him in place, and Peeta responded enthusiastically, suckling and massaging at the peaks with his lips and tongue.

Completely lost to sensation, Katniss barely noticed that the hand that had been cupping her breast was gliding down her abdomen, until his fingers were parting her and relocating those places he had discovered at summer's end.

She jolted in surprise, and Peeta tightened his arm around her hips, holding her against him securely. His first two fingers pressed at her entrance before teasing up inside. Katniss moaned loudly, and she could feel Peeta's smile against her chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, no longer content to clutch at his hair as she moved with him. Peeta's thumb shifted higher, pressing the perfect spot, and she whined in pleasure. After a few moments more, she was bucking against him as she came.

Once she'd stilled, Peeta carefully laid her down on the floor of the blind and removed his hand. Katniss felt as liquid as the rainwater, the sensation that pooled in her center was now flowing along her nerves in rivulets, trickling out to her extremities. He nuzzled at her jaw and Katniss kissed him gladly, sighing with happiness. She opened her arms to welcome him, cradling Peeta with her legs as he settled partially over her. He pillowed his head on her chest, and they drifted to sleep, the pattering rain soothing in the background.

They'd woken a little later that day, the last of the rain dripping off low branches as they helped each other with their clothing and gathered their haul together. Katniss knew they'd have to be careful not to get sidetracked too often, but she couldn't help but look forward to the next time they did.

* * *

She and Peeta settled into their routine, and his familiarity with the forest continued to grow. So did their knowledge of each other. Peeta learned her body with an enthusiasm that far eclipsed his interest in learning the flora of the area, and Katniss found herself studying up on Peeta Mellark with an equal verve. As long as they didn't do anything that could result in pregnancy, she didn't see why they couldn't explore to their heart's content.

Katniss couldn't pretend her general outlook hadn't improved either. Life in the district was the same as ever, but she recognized that the time she spent in the woods with Peeta was some of the happiest of her life.

She would be content to continue on like this indefinitely, she thought: working together and playing together, away from the district's prying eyes, in relative freedom.

Which was why Peeta's statement, on a Saturday nearing the end of October, surprised her so much. They were approaching the fence, headed home after a fruitful day in the forest.

"I figured out what I want to do."

Katniss wasn't sure what he was referring to. Maybe something a little different when they next indulged themselves. She looked up with a smile. "Do?"

"Yeah," he said. "I want to open up a Seam bakery."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a better stopping point than part one, right? I know some people had questions/worries they mentioned in reviews, & I want to assure you that many of them will be answered in due time.
> 
> We didn't get to Haymitch this time. :\ But we will next chapter, now that a lot of the drama-llama material is out of the way. There's still quite a bit of story to go, though. O.o
> 
> And I wanted to mention, I don't mean to paint Peeta as some long-suffering saint and Katniss as some eternally bumbling, unworthy match for him. I hope this story hasn't come off that way so far. They are both fabulously complex characters, and both have flaws. I envision her biggest missteps occurring at the early stages of a relationship, given the walls she puts up, whereas I imagine Peeta's trying traits would become more pronounced further down the road. Stay tuned?
> 
> Please don't eat any mushrooms you aren't 1000% familiar with. Puffballs are not safe to eat once the inside has darkened, and chicken of the woods disagrees with some people. I got my info from various sites online and I am NOT qualified to instruct anyone on fungi consumption!
> 
> Most of all, I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think. You are all fabulous for following, favoriting, giving kudos, commenting, reviewing, or just reading. Thank you for that, and for being so patient with me. It's been a really trying year inside my head, and it means a lot. 3
> 
> I am GhtlovesThg on tumblr, and if you want some gorgeous canon-divergent Everlark reading, check out "The Awkward In-between" by Lilymaid!


	9. Brickmold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 years ago, when I last updated this fic, I promised we'd get to Haymitch in the next chapter. That will not be the case, sadly. In fact, I can't in good conscience really call this a chapter. It's more of an interlude.
> 
> Fair warning, not much happens plot-wise - I kind of got caught up in exactly how Katniss and Peeta would clear a major hurdle for the Seam bakery, and this was the result - too much technical info, with Everlark sprinkled throughout. But it's been so long since I updated, and I wanted to post something for Katniss's birthday. Hopefully this will suit.
> 
> Thank you to every person who has stuck with this story. Your incredible patience and support is much appreciated. Huge thanks also go out to The RPGenius for putting up with last-minute chapters that come out of left field, and all my nonsense.

* * *

 

Katniss immediately wanted to warn Peeta against the idea of a Seam bakery, to tell him it would never work. But she held back, because she had promised not to hinder Peeta when it came to making a new life for himself. Besides, there were several aspects of her own life that she never would have foreseen not long ago, so she could be wrong. Katniss hoped she was.

She wouldn't give Peeta a reason to lose confidence in her. She'd won back his trust, and she would reward that with her encouragement. So complete failure or unlikely success, if Katniss could help him with this bakery, she would.

Luckily, Peeta was so caught up in the prospect of his own bakery that he didn't see doubt shadowing her features. Katniss could only imagine the recipes and ingredient lists that were running through his head.

"First," she pointed out, "You need a kitchen you can actually bake in."

 

* * *

 

Katniss was gratified to see how much had changed since she'd last been in the house.

As ever, the furniture could only be described as "patchwork,' and a great deal of the shack's contents were more a makeshift repurposing of crude objects and materials than anything, but there had clearly been a lot of thought and creativity applied to each challenge Peeta had come across.

This she observed while leaning through Peeta's biggest dilemma yet: empty windows. Katniss had last been inside when she'd snuck in to steal his boots, but she felt hesitant to enter now.

People in the Seam must have seen her interacting with Peeta, and certainly rumors were flying in Town about his banishment from the bakery, but she wasn't sure if people were aware of where Peeta had taken up residence, or if news of their partnership had reached the merchant quarter yet. It was one thing to be seen around someone, and another to be seen entering their house alone. If they weren't already, people would probably be speculating all sorts of things about them soon. No need to rush the gossip. Katniss wanted to keep what was between her and Peeta private as long as she could.

She pulled away from the window, and the cloth he'd hung over it fell back into place. That wouldn't keep the cold out. Peeta was probably already feeling the biting chill of the night air, despite sleeping by the hearth.

Actual glass was precious, both hard to come by and very expensive. Seam houses tended to have very few windows for that reason. They were too costly to repair. Strangely, Peeta's house had several windows. It was just one of several oddities in the design of the structure that Katniss had briefly puzzled over. Whatever the reason, it just made repairing the structure that much harder.

It was a Sunday, and since she wouldn't be going to the woods today, she'd stopped by Peeta's to discuss plans for his future bakery. Peeta was just pulling on his boots in the kitchen when he saw her by the window.

"Hey," he greeted her, as he looped the shoelaces around and around. "What I want to show you is around the side of the house. I'm just making some tea, I'll bring you some."

When he joined her outside, he handed her a warped tin cup full of unsweetened tea.

"This cup's seen better days. One of Faren's cast offs?" she guessed.

"Yes, actually," Peeta admitted, eyeing the little mug. The handle was affixed crookedly. "I think this was the first thing he welded together. Faren's been giving me some of the usable junk that's been piling up at his shop. All I have to do is clean up the shop for him on Sunday nights."

Katniss arched her brow. "Faren doesn't like keeping tidy? I'm shocked."

Peeta laughed. "He's always been that way. But this works great. I get useful things I need, and Faren's got a clean, organized workspace to start the week with."

"How generous of him," Katniss deadpanned. "And Lanni's none the wiser, I'm sure."

Peeta's mouth quirked in answer. "I think that's the general idea."

She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of tea. "So what about these windows? You have to get them covered, and quick. It's not summer any more."

"I know," Peeta sighed. "But I'm not sure how. Every single one was broken, and there's no way I can replace them. I could board them up, but then I'll be relying on the patchy electricity for light, even in the day."

He fiddled with the cup in his hand, distracted, and Katniss raised her tin mug thoughtfully, taking a slow drink. As she lowered her hand, her eyes caught the crudely welded joint between cup and handle.

"That's a lot of extra candles to buy," Peeta mused, clearly worried.

"Where did you put the shards?" she asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"The broken pieces of glass from the windows. When you cleared out the house, where did you put them?"

Peeta looked puzzled, but responded nevertheless. "I have a pile of junk behind the house. I haven't cleared it out yet in case something can still be used. They should be there."

He led them over to the heap of debris, and Katniss poked around for a few minutes. Peeta watched as she carefully moved several pieces of broken glass to a clear patch of grass nearby, before hunching over the shards. As he looked on, Katniss carefully arranged them into a small, semi-rectangular shape.

She looked up with a smirk. "Since Faren has all this extra time on Sunday nights, I wonder if he'd be free to do a little soldering for you."

Peeta's face brightened with understanding. "Like the stained glass window with the Capitol Seal in the Justice building! Lanni's father always tells anyone who'll listen that their family did the repairs on it the year Haymitch won the 50th."

Katniss nodded. "And it's not like Faren has to make a certain image. The pieces just have to fit together somewhat."

"If the pane wasn't quite big enough, or not the exact right shape, I could fill in any extra space between it and the open frame with wood, like brickmold around a door," Peeta mused.

She contemplated the shards on the ground, then the junk heap. "You'll need a lot more glass, though. I don't imagine the smaller pieces will be useful, and a lot of the original pieces are probably lost or crushed to dust."

Peeta rubbed his hand over his chin thoughtfully. "I can always scour the abandoned warehouses for more. Some of the windows along the rooflines must have gotten broken. That's such an amazing idea, Katniss."

She shrugged and smiled. "Save your praise for if it works. If I'd been able to look away from this welded disaster of Faren's, I wouldn't have thought of it."

Peeta grinned. "Thank goodness for Faren's shoddy work, then."

"Here's hoping he'll do a better job on your windows," she joked, and drained her cup.

Peeta returned the toast, then showed her the other major repair that needed to be done.

"The chimney fell in here. It's not a bad thing though, because if this place is going to double as my site of operation for a bakery, I would need to connect the chimney structure to a sizeable oven anyway, if I'm making a large amount of bread."

"So, you need a massive oven, and then you have to rebuild the chimney around it," she summarized, disheartened. This sounded completely daunting, and more impossible by the second. Katniss could feel her heart sinking. How could this possibly work? It would take more money than she'd ever seen to establish anything close to what the Mellarks had.

"What did you use at the bakery?" she asked, dreading the answer.

Peeta bit his lip. "Well, electricity was better in town, but it still wasn't reliable. My father had a dual-fuel brick oven. We used electricity when we could, but relied on coal or wood when power was down. The parts were specially shipped from another district."

Her fears had been right. There was no way they could replicate that.

Peeta threw his arm around her shoulders bracingly, drawing her to his side. "There's no way I need anything that fancy, though! Just a coal or wood burning oven would be fine. It's just a matter of getting a massive amount of bricks."

Katniss smiled a little at his show of affection. This whole endeavor was so obviously impossible, but he was trying so hard to convince her it had a chance and keep their spirits up. His hopefulness was contagious, in spite of all the evidence.

She glanced over her shoulder at the sad little pile of bricks Peeta had amassed from scouring Twelve. It was the same pile she'd spotted when he was fixing his roof, and it hadn't grown much since then. At this rate, unless she could think of a way to avoid going bankrupt buying bricks, Peeta would be supplying his bakery one drop biscuit at a time.

There was always an answer, Katniss told herself, plumbing her depths for some inspiration. There had to be a way. Her father had shown her that, from beyond the grave, when she'd turned to the woods to save her family. She remembered his words, about how as long as she found herself, she'd always be fed. That day, as she'd scraped the smooth, slippery bottom of the lake with her toes, uprooting katniss tubers and knowing that miraculously, her family was going to make it after all, she'd understood that resourcefulness was the key to perseverance, to survival. And Katniss had her answer.

Katniss looked back at Peeta, excitement crackling in her eyes. "I think I know what we can do to get you an oven. It's going to be quite an undertaking, though."

His mouth spread into a slow grin. "We'd better get started then."

 

* * *

 

As they entered the clearing, passing the last tree branches that blocked the lake from view, Katniss kept her eyes on Peeta, to see his first look at the blue, rippling waters her father had so loved.

They'd been inspecting his crumbling chimney and picking over glass fragments only yesterday. She'd instructed Peeta to make an early night of it that evening, because they'd be making an extended trek through the forest this morning. Now, after a couple of hours of walking through the woods, they'd reached their destination.

"Wow," he marveled. "Who would've thought something like this was so close to Twelve?"

Katniss grinned with pride for the lake that felt as if it belonged to her. Taking his hand, she led him closer. He looked out over the water, from the reeds swaying with the wind in the shallows, to the waterfowl gliding across the surface in the distance, dipping underwater and bobbing back up with fish in their bills.

Katniss closed her eyes and Peeta followed suit, feeling the sun on his skin and hearing the periodic, gentle lapping of water on the shore.

She hated to break their reverie, but they were here for a reason. With a sly smile, she kicked off her boots and socks, then rolled up her pant legs. Peeta opened his eyes and watched with interest, lake suddenly forgotten.

She bit her lip in amusement. It had quickly become apparent, during their interludes in the woods, that Peeta was quite taken with her legs - soft, downy hair and all. But they weren't meant to serve as a distraction at the moment, so Katniss nudged him with her shoulder and Peeta followed suit, discarding his shoes and socks, and rolling his pants above his knees.

Leading the way, she waded a few feet into the lake. Peeta trailed behind, navigating around the rocks and slippery detritus underfoot.

"I'm a little out of my element, here," he mumbled, concentrating on where he put his feet. "I've never seen so much water in one place."

When they'd walked to where the water reached to right below her knees, Katniss stopped in a spot that was relatively clear of muck on the bottom. Peeta stood next to her and looked over questioningly.

"Feel that?" she asked, looking down as she flexed her toes in the soft substrate underfoot. "That's your oven."

Peeta gazed downward for a moment, until comprehension entered his eyes. Carefully bending over, he submerged his hands, reaching down to the lake floor and coming up with handfuls of soft, grayish brown clay.

His expression was lit with excitement as he met her stare. "I'm going to have a clay oven," he said in wonder.

Peeta ended up being even more enthusiastic about her idea than she'd originally anticipated. He began digging his hands through the material on the lake floor immediately, pulling up great handfuls of clay and stuffing it in his empty game bag. The water from the wet clay leaked through immediately, staining his shirt a light gray, and Katniss laughed and demanded he at least remove his trousers and shirt before continuing.

They returned to shore, and after he disrobed of everything but his undergarments, Katniss handed him a trowel she'd brought in her hunting bag. The whole time, Peeta enthusiastically discussed plans for how many bricks he'd make, and how with a little dried grass, he could make up some cob to mortar them together and patch the seam between oven and chimney.

Since there was only one little shovel, Katniss fished and gathered while he worked. They still needed a day's worth of goods to trade, so it was best that they divide tasks. Each time Peeta came back to the lakeshore to add more clay to the growing mound, Katniss sorted through it to remove twigs, leaves, and stones that had gotten mixed in, before returning to her fishing lines.

At intervals, Peeta took a break from digging out the heavy clay, and added handfuls of sand to the mound onshore, kneading it in like he would raisins or nuts to a lump of dough. When it stopped sticking together so much, she and he formed clumps of it into rectangular bricks, and then brought them to the concrete shack nearby to dry.

Then he waded back out and began furiously digging again, working as quickly as possible to make the most of the daylight. Katniss knew he'd be exhausted by nightfall, but everything that needed to be accomplished for the bakery was a race against time and winter.

Between forming bricks, Katniss got a fair amount of fish and greens, and even bagged two ducks. By the time late afternoon was gently slipping into dusk, Peeta thought they had shaped enough of them.

"They'll need to dry for several days," he said tiredly. "Then I need to fire them. And carry them all back to Twelve," he realized aloud, swaying a bit on his feet at the thought of it all.

Katniss reached over and took his hand, grasping it tightly in solidarity. It steadied him. "One step at a time, Peeta. We'll get it done."

Peeta nodded and gathered himself, pushing past the exhaustion and aching muscles. "Sometimes Dad had to patch cracks in the chimney or the oven. He always ordered cob, it was the cheapest. Making that should be a lot easier than the bricks," he said, almost as if to reassure himself. "There's no baking involved."

He was sweaty, exhausted, and covered head-to-toe in clay and sand. Katniss had fared a lot better, but hadn't escaped the gritty sand or smears of clay that went with their work. So she shrugged out of her coat, shirt, and slacks, then took his hand once more, drawing him back toward the water.

The sun was getting low, and the water had cooled significantly. Katniss shivered but pressed on, smirking when he hissed in shock at the water temperature. They went further in this time, and when the water reached up to her armpits and midway up Peeta's chest, he balked at going any further. "I can't swim, Katniss. You can?"

She nodded and shushed him, before moving around to his back. She was going to warm him up. Laying her hands on his shoulders, Katniss gently wiped the clay and grit away from his skin. When she felt a tenseness in his muscles, she added pressure and worked it away with her fingers, eliciting several appreciative moans from Peeta.

Katniss worked her way up his neck, unhurried, and Peeta dipped his head back to give her access to the bits of clay that had hardened to clumps in his hair. She gently poured handfuls of water over his curls, soaking the strands until the material separated and floated away through her fingers.

Peeta sighed in bliss, and Katniss threaded her fingers through his hair, gently scraping her nails against his scalp. She was rewarded with a shiver and breathy curse from Peeta. She moved slowly down his lower back, then swung around to his front. For his legs, Katniss wove her arms around Peeta's neck, using him for balance as she dragged the pads of her feet over his shins and calves, rubbing the persistent smears of clay away underwater.

In response, Peeta gripped her waist and kissed her ravenously. Worn out as he was, certain parts of his anatomy remained energetic, Katniss noted with a smile.

Locking one arm around his neck, Katniss threaded the other between their bodies, slipping her hand down and inside his shorts.

Peeta released a startled exhalation as she trailed her fingers through the smattering of hair and wrapped her hand around him. She bit her lip as she moved her hand, watching his expression. She couldn't see what she was doing beneath the water, but the range of expressions that crossed Peeta's face was more than guide enough.

The water did nothing to ease their movements, providing almost too much friction between her hand and his sensitive skin, so Katniss settled on adding pressure rather than motion, squeezing him in her hand and rocking her hips against him, providing a rhythmic sensation through the thin cotton of Peeta's shorts.

Katniss's senses were honed in on Peeta completely, from the warmth of his skin amidst the cool lake water, to the sound of his stuttering breaths and barely audible whimpers. She was riveted by the soft splashes that belied their movements, and the drops of water that leapt from the tips of his hair. Leaning forward, she kissed a bead of water from the the lobe of his ear.

As her chest dragged across Peeta's, the cool, heavy clay and gritty sand on his skin smeared against her waterlogged tank top. Her nipples furled into hard buds, and Katniss felt drugged with sensation.

Giving him another firm squeeze, she rested her thumb on the sensitive head, brushing the pad of her finger against the very tip of him. Peeta gasped, and twitched, and then he was trembling in her arms, coming apart while she held him together.

Katniss gave him space to recover, and basked in the peaceful, happy look on his face. How would he look if they _truly_ laid together, she wondered greedily. She pushed the thought away, but hunger for Peeta still gnawed at her belly.

When his eyes reopened, they were drowsy and sated. Peeta pulled her back into his arms to press reverent, lazy kisses along the hairline behind her ear. She wiped the last of the clay and sand from his chest, and felt his fatigue return as he rested his head heavily on her shoulder.

"Come on," she said, "We'd better get back before we lose the light."

Peeta groaned and mumbled something about returning the favor, but Katniss smirked and patted his back affectionately. "You're in no state to do anything but fall asleep. I intend to get you back to your bed in one piece," she promised, pulling away.

They exited the lake and Katniss gathered their materials together, the fishing line, her bounty for the day, and the small shovel, which she rinsed off and left in the little shack in case they needed it again. All the bricks would be staying here for a few days, but they'd be back soon. She wondered if next time they were here, she'd be able to keep her hands to herself any more than she had today. Probably not.

They leaned on each other for balance and tugged their clothes back on, laughing as they stumbled. There wasn't time to wait for their undergarments to dry, so they just pulled their dry clothing on over them. If she was going to have time to trade at the Hob before people packed up for the night, Katniss knew they had to start back now. She led the way back in the fading light, Peeta trudging heavily but happily behind her.

 

* * *

 

The Monday after their day at the lake, Peeta petitioned Faren to help solder the glass-shard windows together. Ever able to sway people with words, Peeta also managed to wheedle an agreement out of his brother that if he put in the work himself, Peeta could buy metal to make trays and utensils at a fraction of the normal price.

After a day of scouring the district's abandoned warehouses for broken window panes, he spent the evening in the metalworking shop, arranging the pieces of glass he'd found into rudimentary rectangular arrangements. On Tuesday, Peeta returned to Faren's workshop, completing little tasks for him while the older Mellark soldered bits of glass into window panes.

Peeta returned to the lake on Wednesday to turn the bricks, ensuring that they all dried evenly. He went alone, guided by markers Katniss had left on their first trip, and spent the remainder of the day gathering firewood in preparation for cooking the bricks.

Katniss, who opted to stay closer to Twelve in their familiar woods for some much-needed hunting, found her mind wandering to his progress frequently.

First she worried that he might have gotten lost. But navigating the forest was becoming second nature to Peeta, more and more each day. He was undoubtedly at the lake by now, and she wished she was there with him.

Katniss felt embarrassed to admit that she missed him after only a few was so much to be accomplished before his bakery came into being, Peeta couldn't afford to spend all day in the woods with her. He'd taken to tending the snare line in the dim light of the gathering dawn, during those hours he normally would have woken up to bake bread in Town. Those were her best hours for hunting, so she couldn't join him. And his days of foraging with her after they'd bagged game were over, at least for the time being. Katniss tried not to think about the fact that he'd have less time, not more, if his bakery took off.

Each day, they met at a particular tree around the time that the first shift at the mines started. He'd hand over his game bag, heavy from the snare line, and give her a quick kiss, which was hardly satisfying. Then Peeta would head back to Twelve for a day of bartering for supplies, making repairs to his little house, and working on materials for the bakery.

They had plans to fire the bricks on Friday, though, so Katniss took heart in that. She woke that day well before dawn, knowing there was a full day of work ahead of them. She suspected rousing early had more to do with her anticipation of a whole day with Peeta, than it had to do with industriousness.

Peeta was waiting for her under an oak tree past the fence. His fair hair stood out, even in the weak light. She quickened her approach to the place where he stood.

Finally, finally, they were here together, and he was hers for the whole day. As if the same thought was running through his own mind, Peeta drew her up into his arms as soon as she was in reach, pressing his lips to hers.

It felt so good, so warm and welcome, that Katniss knew she would not be the first to let go. When Peeta gently lowered her down from where she'd balanced on the pads of her feet, Katniss prolonged the contact, trailing a hand down his arm to link their fingers together. They walked to the lake like that, trading news of the small events that had happened during their days apart.

When they reached the lake, Katniss pulled a folded piece of fabric out of her foraging bag to show Peeta. She'd found a large piece of coarse burlap in the odds and ends bag at home, and had figured out a way they could use it to help them carry the bricks back to Twelve.

"It's called a travois," she explained. "And once we make it, it's going to save us a lot of time and effort."

"You've thought of everything," Peeta praised, studying the fabric.

" _We_ have. And only so far. You don't exactly have an oven yet."

"Well, as to that, come see what I've been working on." Peeta led Katniss over to a sandy spot by the lake, where he'd stacked fallen branches and logs of all sizes into a massive pyre. He took a piece of flint out of his pocket.

"You're not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?" he joked, as he crouched to light some dried grass at the base of the pile. "Because this ought to grow pretty intense."

Peeta coaxed a blaze out of the wood in no time. It would take a while for the whole pyre to catch up and get hot enough for the bricks, so in the meantime they gathered more firewood for later, and Katniss set some fishing lines and gathered katniss tubers.

Later in the afternoon, they pushed the bricks as far into the flames as they could, with an old metal hoe Peeta had found. Getting the bricks in was a hot, awkward task. As planned, the bonfire had grown to a veritable inferno, and merely standing nearby doused each of them with scorching blasts of hot air. The only option was to stand well away from the fire, then dash up close, push the brick in with the hoe, and then run away as quickly as possible.

Instead of letting the tiresome task and burning air dishearten them, they made a game of it. Peeta bet Katniss he could get bricks in faster than she could, and at her assurance that he could not, Peeta challenged her to time him on his next try.

Peeta could put more force behind the hoe, getting the heavy bricks into place in fewer movements, but Katniss was a good deal more nimble. After a few attempts, the contest quickly escalated from best of two-out-of-three to four-out-of-seven, five-out-of-nine, and so on, until they'd lost count and were solely intent on trying to show the other up.

When they finally got the last of the bricks in place, Katniss slumped down to sit on the ground a small distance away. It felt good to be off her feet. She was out of breath from laughing at Peeta's antics and thoroughly exhausted. Now it was just a matter of waiting hours upon hours for the bricks to harden. She looked over at Peeta and wondered if she was as sooty as he was, but then decided she was too tired to care.

Laying back to rest her sore muscles, Katniss listened to how the roar of the fire drowned out the sounds of the lake. She watched the smoke drifting and dispersing in the air, and hoped it wasn't visible from Twelve. Before Katniss knew it, her eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep.

Then Peeta was nudging her awake. It was late afternoon. She must have slept for hours.

"Katniss? You should probably wake up." She raised herself stiffly, with aching muscles. "I've been building up the firewood while you were sleeping,' Peeta said. "The bricks aren't even close to being done, I think I'm going to have to stoke the fire through the night."

She blinked drowsily at the news. "I'll stay with you. We could take turns tending the fire, while the other sleeps."

Peeta shook his head. "Your mom and sister would worry. I can manage. I brought some things, just in case. I was hoping they'd fire faster, but I knew they probably wouldn't."

"I'll catch you some dinner then," she insisted, wishing with a pang that she could spend the night out here with Peeta, away from prying eyes and no one the wiser. "And I'll watch the fire while you at least have a nap. You can't stay awake forever."

But even after she'd shot a squirrel, roasted it at the edge of the fire, and then waited while he took a brief nap, Katniss was still hesitant to go. "You're sure you want to stay here?" she asked.

"Of course. It would be a huge waste to let the fire go out, then have to get it back up to this temperature to finish the bricks. This is what I asked for with a bakery Katniss, don't worry. No one's even going to notice I'm gone."

But she did worry. His absence might not be immediately noticed by the rest of Twelve, but it would weigh on her.

Katniss thought of the packs of wild dogs that roamed the wilds of Panem. Bears and wolves, though rare, weren't unheard of either. It was unlikely anything would risk coming close to the fire on the lakeside, and the concrete shack allowed a little protection, but still.

Thinking of him waiting out the night with nothing but the unfeeling wilderness to keep him company bothered her. He had to be at least as tired as she was, and now he couldn't even sleep it off.

Peeta shouldn't have to do it alone, she thought fiercely. Not when they could do it together. Even if all she could do was rest her tired head on Peeta's shoulder and poke him awake every few hours, Katniss wanted to do it.

But he wouldn't hear of it. When Katniss suggested again that she stay with him, Peeta insisted she pack up her things before it got any darker. He barely waited long enough for her to check that he had a hunting knife with him, or for her to hand over her bow and quiver with a lingering kiss to his brow, before he turned and went into the little shack to stow his game bag with the few provisions he'd thought to bring. Peeta promised to spend most of the time in the concrete structure, and then he settled in for the long wait. Then there was nothing for her to do but head back to Twelve.

Hours after she'd gone to bed in the small bedroom of her house, Katniss was still awake. She'd exhausted her imagination's supply of harrowing circumstances that could be befalling Peeta in her absence, and was left to wonder why she was so worried instead.

She and Gale had occasionally gotten stuck on the other side of the fence, when the electricity came on unexpectedly. There were even times they'd had to stay the night, sometimes when they were hunting together, and sometimes when they were apart. It had never been a cause for undue worry.

And should the thought of Peeta in Twelve make her feel that much more at ease? It may be 'safer' than beyond the fence, but as a district under Capitol rule, it was full of its own perils. Having lost his situation with his family, Peeta was susceptible to them more than ever.

Regardless of which environment posed more risk, Katniss could acknowledge that a physical barrier between them was a cause for significant unease. At least if they were both in the forest, or both in Twelve, they faced the same dangers together. She didn't like imagining what would become of her if something ever happened to him.

If the bricks still needed more time tomorrow evening, Katniss was staying with him. That was that.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, she reached the lake early. Peeta was sitting with his back leaned up against the shack, eyelids drooping. The bonfire was still going strong.

She smirked as she approached on velvet feet. He would never hear her under normal circumstances, there was no way he would detect her presence in this state.

When she'd drawn up beside him, Katniss briefly considered surprising him with a loud noise or sudden movement, but quickly decided that would be too cruel. Instead, she reached out to brush some wayward hairs away from his face. His hair was sweaty from the heat of the fire, and there were purplish circles under his eyes.

Peeta's eyelids fluttered as he tilted his head back, giving her questing fingers better access. The barest hint of an appreciative smile teased his lips.

"Morning," he mumbled groggily.

"How can you be sure?" she teased. "I don't think you've opened your eyes since I got here."

He sighed and leaned further into her touch. "Educated guess," he sighed, before adding by way of explanation, "Tired."

"Well, come on then. Time for you to get some sleep while I watch the fire." She tugged on his hands until he got sluggishly to his feet and followed her inside the little concrete shack.

"I brought you a sleeping bag," she said, spreading it out on the uneven floor. "It was my father's; he used to keep it in this very cabin for nights he couldn't make it back to Twelve."

Peeta crouched down and crawled into the welcome comfort of the sleeping roll. She reached out to straighten the bag once he was in it, making sure he was comfortable.

"I used to hate those nights. When he died, I resented them. It was more time he might have spent with us, but couldn't. When I ventured out here afterward, I brought it back. I've hoarded his few possessions over the years, to try to hold on to him, to get a little more of him back."

She glanced up from where she was arranging the sleeping bag around his shoulders. Instead of closing his eyes, Peeta had been listening with sympathy.

"It's funny," Katniss mused, "Now it's back here where it belongs, being used again. "Almost as funny as watching you try to fight falling asleep," she ribbed, as Peeta's lids lowered and snapped back open.

"Go on, sleep. I'll watch the fire and get some dead grass for the cob."

In only moments, his breath evened out in slumber. Katniss wet a scrap of cloth in the lake and brought it back to the cabin, where she knelt by his side and carefully wiped the grime and soot from his cheeks and brow. She felt a tenderness wash over her, and reluctantly left to begin her tasks for the day.

When Peeta woke a few hours later, they shared a breakfast of berries and greens, then started on the cob.

The process involved mixing subsoil, which Peeta had dug up by firelight the night before, with organic material. They'd settled on using meadow grass, and Katniss had collected quite a bit in the previous hours, taking care to gather the clumps that had died and dried out, which could always be found closer to the ground.

To get the consistency right, the'd have to add sand or clay after mixing, but the soil they were starting with was fairly clay-rich, which suited their purpose. As both worked, Peeta explained that not only was cob fireproof and therefore perfect to cement the bricks together, but it was also an excellent insulator. And to make his oven more efficient, he was planning to cover the entire thing in several inches' worth of cob after the bricks were in place.

Which meant there was a lot of mixing to do. And more clay and sand to gather. Katniss didn't think she wanted to see another handful of wet, mucky clay for the rest of her life, and she'd dealt with less of it than Peeta had. Nonetheless, they split up and collected the remaining materials, only stopping to feed the bonfire.

As Peeta spread the first heap of moistened soil thinly along the ground and began scattering dried grass over it, Katniss felt her attention repeatedly wandering to the forest.

They'd been working with dirt for what felt like forever. She hadn't hunted all day, and it was a beautiful afternoon. The shaded, cool world beneath the trees was beckoning, and every snatch of birdsong or buzz of insect felt like a call of her name.

When she finally dragged her focus back to the task at hand, Peeta had already begun mixing the section of dirt and organic matter that was closest to him, using the small spade they'd used to dig up clay. His sleeves were rolled up, and when he glanced over at her, he was smiling knowingly.

"Why don't you take a break?"

She scowled. "I don't need a break."

"Yeah, but maybe you should hunt for a little while. You know, for a change of scenery."

She cocked her eyebrow. "Are _you_ getting a change of scenery?"

"No," he admitted.

"Well then, neither am I," Katniss added with finality.

"We only have one shovel though, and mixing is kinda my thing, being a baker and all," Peeta continued. "I just wanted to give you the chance to bow out gracefully before you disgrace yourself trying to mix this cob in front of a true professional."

She laughed at his poorly veiled attempt to give her a reprieve, and Peeta added, "Also, I think I've only got a little dried squirrel meat left in my bag. I certainly wouldn't object to something fresh for when we're finished. Provided you're up to it?" He looked at her hopefully.

Squirrel had certainly featured prominently in his diet in the recent weeks, as it was something she could easily catch and always seemed to have a supply of. Though she and Peeta had been splitting their profits from the forest, all his money went to preparations for the bakery, and whatever she wasn't able to trade was what he ate.

Still, it would be nice for him to have a little change of pace. The only time he wasn't eating squirrel was when they came out here and had some fish. Katniss bet she could catch him a nice, fat rabbit.

"Are you sure?"

"Katniss," Peeta said affectionately, "Go."

No further convincing was necessary. After a quick check on the slowly-baking bricks, Katniss hurried to gather her bow and arrow from the shack, before darting through the trees like one of her own arrows.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon hunt had been just what she needed. Tracking and felling prey was so ingrained in her, it was almost instinctual. The brief bit of solitude it afforded was appreciated as well. Katniss was grateful that Peeta seemed to recognize this need in her, and didn't try to fight it or compete with it.

When she'd returned, two plump rabbits in tow, Peeta had finished mixing all the cob, and was actually standing barefoot in the middle of it, surrounded on all sides by clumpy, ankle-deep dirt and muck.

"I'm guessing you'd like to have one of these when you're done with…whatever it is you're doing," she said, by way of greeting.

"That would be best. I can clean off and actually sit down then. I'm looking forward to that rabbit," he said, eyeing them hungrily. "You're sure you don't mind waiting?"

Katniss shook her head. "I can get them started in the shack and then come out and help you. They'll take a while to cook."

She deposited her things in the concrete structure, and tossed some wood into the fireplace. Lighting a small branch with the bonfire outside, she brought the flame inside to the hearth. As the little fire grew, she cleaned and dressed the rabbits, set them up on the makeshift spit she and her father had designed, and then went back to join Peeta outside while they cooked.

"So what is it that you're doing?" Katniss asked when she reached him.

"I'm trampling the cob. To really work in the dried grass. That's what makes it strong."

It looked more like he was just having fun making a mess.

"Care to join me?" he asked. Peeta flashed her a charming grin and offered his hand, as if issuing a coveted invitation, and not extending soil-darkened fingers to draw her onto a mound of mashed soil and grass. "Many feet make light work."

Katniss kicked off her hunting boots and socks, then rolled her pants. "How could I refuse such an offer?" she deadpanned, taking his hand. He tugged her into the center of the mixture, and she felt her feet sink into the cool, moist subsoil.

"So yeah, just go ahead and stomp around. We want everything to be uniform."

She did just that for a while, amused by how ridiculous it must all look. It was actually fairly tiring, but Katniss was determined to keep going as long as Peeta did.

"You know, it kind of reminds me of how some people dance at the Harvest Festival," she said after a while. And to prove her point, she did a couple of exaggerated steps from the traditional folk dance of Twelve, her movements hindered and made clumsy by the cob.

Peeta laughed. "I think you mean me. I haven't done it for years, but no one ever accused me of being a skilled dancer, I'll tell you that." And to prove his point, he took up where she'd left off, completing the signature turn and sweep of the district's dance.

It was clear to Katniss that the crudeness of his movements wasn't only due to the cob's interference, and she dissolved in laughter at the sight. She'd never seen Peeta dance at the festival, but he was certainly one of the dancers she'd described.

"We've never had the chance to dance at the festival, have we?" he asked suddenly.

"You mean besides all the years we never spoke? No, we haven't. I'd assume it was because you were working at the stand last year, and your mother would have seen, but now I realize it's because you're a terrible dancer!"

"Are you kidding?" he protested. "For the chance to dance with you, I'd flaunt my horrendous footwork anywhere, even on Capitol television."

"It's too bad then, that we haven't." Dreadful dancer or not, Katniss genuinely wished there had been an opportunity to dance with Peeta.

"Well then, I guess this is our chance, isn't it? And luckily for me, the cob is here to cover up my missteps."

And the next thing she knew, Peeta had taken her hands and drawn her toward him, shifting his feet in a poor approximation of steps familiar to her. They swayed in time to unheard music, Katniss trying to hide the fact that she was practically gliding circles around him, and Peeta trying to hide the fact that he was staring at her feet to copy the steps.

When it came time for him to twirl her about, his foot slid and the pair nearly went down, yanking at handfuls of each other's shirts in an effort to stay upright. It didn't help that Katniss was laughing so hard at Peeta's panicked expression that she could hardly breathe, but they finally managed to gain their footing.

When they righted themselves, Peeta was pink all the way to his ears. "Well, it may not be the _best_ dance you've had-"

But by the time he'd gotten that far, Katniss wound her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth. His hands tangled in her braid, anchoring her to him, and everything was forgotten until Katniss remembered with a jolt that it was time to turn the rabbits on the spit.

When they'd finally finished with the cob, they cleaned up, added more boughs to the ever-hungry fire, and sat down to eat. The rabbit was greasy but delicious, and they ate heartily.

"The bricks look like they're coming along," Katniss stated, tossing a thin rabbit bone onto a pile with the others.

Peeta nodded. "Yeah. They should be done by tomorrow morning. Then it's only about a thousand trips between here and Twelve before I can start building the oven," he finished with a groan. "Remind me that this was my idea to begin with."

"This was definitely your idea. A scheme to make a bakery out of practically nothing has _Peeta Mellark_ written all over it," she averred with a chuckle. "But…it might just work."

Katniss was almost surprised to realize she meant it. Peeta's enthusiasm was infectious, and they'd come this far already. Between the two of them, they never seemed to be without an idea or solution for long. Or at least, that had been the case up to this point. When it came to what he was actually going to bake, she was at a complete loss. That part still seemed impossible.

Peeta reached over and took her hand reassuringly. "It _will_ work. Just wait and see."

He looked so earnest, so sure, that Katniss let her worries about the undertaking drift away, instead focusing on the late afternoon sun on her lake.

"Should you be heading back soon?" he asked reluctantly.

Katniss shook her head. "Not yet."

They took a dip in the lake to wash off the cob, and Katniss gathered some tubers from the plants that bore her name. Shortly after, she managed to shoot a duck she'd spied from the reeds. Then they set about getting more firewood for the night ahead.

The afternoon was wearing into evening as Katniss plucked the fowl in the little concrete cabin. As the first hint of orange painted the sky, Peeta returned from checking the bricks. He inquired again whether she needed to start back for the night.

"I'm not going back to Twelve tonight. I left a note at home saying I might be spending the night by the lake." Katniss slanted her gaze over to Peeta with a shy smile. "I'm all yours."

He raised his eyebrows at the news, and a returning grin spread slowly over his face. "If your mother and Prim find out I was out here with you, you aren't worried what they might think?"

"Honestly, that's the farthest thing from my mind." Katniss deliberately began unlacing her boots, the motions of her fingers unhurried. "They only know what I tell them, and I've said very little about our time in the woods. Or in the district," she admitted.

Peeta looked a little crestfallen at that news, and she rushed to explain herself. "This is just ours, for now. People will find out sooner or later. Don't rush it." He nodded in understanding, but didn't look entirely convinced.

"Sit down. Get comfortable," she said. "I'll cook the duck."

As the duck roasted on the spit, and the katniss tubers boiled in an empty tin can she kept in the shack, Katniss spread out the fabric she'd brought the other day, threaded two needles with stiff twine, and explained the concept behind a travois to Peeta.

Her father had explained their design and construction to her, once upon a time, in terms of transporting more game than one could carry back to the district. It required lashing two sturdy branches together into a joint, then tying game across the frame. The travois could then be dragged, point first, back to the district. Despite its deceptively simple construction, it couldn't be beat in forested terrain - anything with wheels, had there been a way to get it over the fence, would get stuck frequently.

In the case of moving bricks, a travois would be indispensable. By fastening canvas across the wooden frame, the bricks could then be loaded onto the resulting hammock. To secure the cloth, she and Peeta were folding the two lengthwise edges back on themselves and sewing them in place, creating sleeves for the wooden branches that would form the frame.

It was quiet, repetitive work, both of them threading their needles through an end of the fabric, the rest of the material stretched between them. The sound of the crackling logs and flicker of firelight in the little shack lulled Katniss into a cozy sort of contentment, and she dreamed, for a moment, that this was their house and they were spending a quiet night by the fire.

The water boiled over the top of the can, and Katniss was startled out of her reverie, shaking its remnants out of her head as she checked the duck and pushed the can away from the fire.

She'd been wondering all day what it would be like to spend the night by Peeta's side, like they were a _real_ couple. She didn't know exactly what she had with Peeta, or how long it could last, but years ago, she'd decided that there were certain things she couldn't allow herself, not in this world.

And no matter what she might wish, a permanent life with someone else was one of those things. But just this once, maybe she could see what it would be like to spend the night by him, and wake up at his side.

Everything was ready in short order, and they happily ate their fill. Having never tasted them before, Peeta commented on how much he liked the katniss tubers, and they discussed taking turns watching the fire.

"It should be good for a while," Peeta said. " I'll stay up to add more wood and check again later tonight, and if you want, you can do the same a few hours later."

Katniss nodded her agreement. "There's no reason you can't get a couple of hours of sleep now, though." She shrugged out of her coat and scooted over to the sleeping bag. "Come on. We can both fit, we'll make do."

Peeta kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his shirt. They sat down next to each other with fleeting eye contact. Katniss didn't know why she felt so bashful all of the sudden - they'd been in far more intimate positions, with far fewer clothes between them. Still, this was different, personal in a whole new way.

"Do you normally take down your hair at night?" he asked.

"Sometimes. Would you like me to tonight?"

"Yes," he said immediately, with a grin. Katniss returned it, and reached up to the end of her braid, slipping the hair out of its tie. Peeta watched her unweave the plait, and when her hair was down, he trailed his hand through the strands around her temple, drawing her face to his for a smitten kiss. They settled down side by side, and Katniss laid her head on his upper arm. She was pleased to find the curve of his bicep made an excellent support for her neck and head. Peeta draped his arm over her waist, and she rested a hand on his chest.

She was awash in sensation. Everywhere they touched tingled with warmth. She could feel the steady rise of his chest with each breath, and the sturdy thump of his heart beneath her fingers. The dusting of hair that peeked from beneath his tank top gleamed in the firelight, and his breath breezed across her forehead. Katniss felt as connected to him now as she had during their more carnal moments.

This was what she'd hoped for. A glimpse into a life shared with Peeta, a blissful moment of pretend outside reality. And it was wonderful. Until she reminded herself that it could only be a glimpse, and her heart ached terribly. Still, Katniss knew enough to bask in the time she _did_ have. She fought sleep as long as she could, but when she did eventually drift off, it was with an appreciative smile on her lips.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Peeta pulled away to go outside and stoke the fire. Katniss whined grumpily. Her front was cold. Turning to face the hearth helped, and he was back before too long. She sighed her approval as he settled back behind her, wrapping her up in his arms. Peeta buried his face in her hair, then leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"I love how there's always a hint of wood smoke about you."

His lips brushed her earlobe with each word, and Katniss gave an involuntary shiver. She smiled and looked over her shoulder at him. "We've kept a huge fire going for two days now. There's a 'hint' of wood smoke about everything."

"Well that may be, but when it's mixed with the smell of your skin, it's intoxicating," he countered, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. Katniss dipped her shoulder to give him more room, and Peeta tugged her sleeve down, baring her dusky skin to the firelight.

Katniss fumbled the buttons of her shirt open, and Peeta obligingly mapped her skin with his lips, taking time to peruse every inch that was revealed.

Impatient for more, Katniss reached over and drew him into a heated kiss. Within its duration, all remaining thoughts of sleep were discarded. Peeta shifted over her, and when they broke apart, both were intent upon eliminating the barriers between them.

Peeta tugged his tank top up and off, baring his chest and abdomen. Eager for his attention on her breasts, Katniss peeled off her half buttoned shirt, then focused on unfastening his pants.

She took a firm hold of him, and they both moaned appreciatively. Katniss began to stroke him, and in response, Peeta lowered his head to her breasts, spreading breathy kisses everywhere and swiping his tongue hungrily across the peaks.

Peeta pulled back to hurriedly shuck his pants and underwear, then immediately set about tugging hers off as well. Having divested them of their last remaining articles of clothing, he sat back on his heels, staring down at the sight of Katniss in repose before him.

The sudden lull highlighted the sound of their accelerated breaths. He watched her breasts rising and falling, the tips shining with his saliva in the firelight. Katniss curled her lips mischievously and quirked an eyebrow in invitation.

Peeta returned to her with an eager grin, hooking his forearms under her knees and tugging her hips to his. She felt a thrill of excitement, but also a familiar pang of worry. Katniss always feared he would be dissatisfied with how much she'd allow, and what she wouldn't. That Peeta would want them to join fully, and then she'd have to rebuff this and future physical contact.

But Peeta was aware of her boundaries, and with a fluid motion he surged forward, sliding over the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. He moved through her folds sinuously, and Katniss raised her hips in counterpoint, striving for just the right measure of friction.

She bit her lip, limbs weakened with pleasure. Peeta nestled the head of his penis at the crux of her on each pass, brushing against the bundle of nerves there. If her wetness wasn't sign enough, the way Katniss's fingers dug into his shoulders and the way her head was thrown back in sensation told him he hit his mark each time.

Katniss was singing a litany of disjointed praise and encouragement. She curled her legs around his lower back, trying to pull him flush with her and increase the pressure, but Peeta was trying to pace himself.

Every glance at Katniss in abandon nearly dissolved his composure, so Peeta squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to outlast her. He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears as his whole world narrowed down to keeping a tenuous hold on control.

Her hands dropped from his shoulders to scrabble at the sleeping bag beneath them, desperate for something to grasp before she flew apart. She wanted so badly to feel him inside her, Katniss swore she needed it like she needed breath. But they couldn't.

Drawing her legs closer to her torso, Katniss elevated her hips just a bit more, to allow for maximum contact without him actually breaching her. She was aware of all the reasons they had to avoid that, yet she could feel her resolve slipping with each thrust. This was dangerous.

Worrying she'd succumb to temptation staved off her own release, but Peeta's was imminent, and her change in position had tipped the scales against him. With a jolt and a grunt he came, pressing against her for several prolonged moments. Katniss felt the familiar spill of warmth spread across her lower stomach, and sighed with a sense of contented accomplishment. There was something indescribably satisfying about satiating Peeta.

Peeta shifted to the side, barely catching himself on with a shaky arm. Katniss made to sit up, but he gently pushed her shoulders back down, shaking his head. "Don't even think about it." She hadn't finished, and he intended to fix that.

He reached over to grab his tank top and swiped it across her midsection, wiping the evidence of his orgasm away. Then he moved down her body, his lips leaving a path strewn with nips and small kisses on the way down to the juncture of her thighs.

Katniss squirmed in anticipation. Peeta had done this before, and it defied description.

He arranged her legs around him once again, but this time they were draped over his shoulders. She was lush and wet, and Peeta couldn't resist breathing her in as his fingers skimmed over the swell of her pelvic bone. Katniss trembled at the light touch, so anxious to be touched that she felt as though she was about to crawl out of her skin.

He parted her with two fingers, his movements leisurely and intended to drive her spare. Peeta watched through blond lashes, waiting until Katniss's eyes were open and on his before he lowered his mouth to her center.

The withering cry that escaped her was lost and plaintive, a call for fortitude under the onslaught of pleasure. Her stomach muscles fluttered as his tongue swiped inside, and she swore every centimeter of her skin ignited for him.

It was far too much and not nearly enough. Katniss clung to the waves of Peeta's hair like they were her tethers to sanity and guided his motions, fluctuating between tugging him closer for more stimulation and pushing him away when the sensations became too intense.

Peeta was enjoying himself right along with Katniss, lapping up each moan and shiver as eagerly as he did her arousal, completely intoxicated by all that she gave him.

Her head thrashed and release finally broke over her. It felt as though she'd been scattered to the wind like a piece of dandelion fluff, weightless and utterly free. At the same time, Katniss felt herself sinking languidly back into her body, drained and replete all at once.

Shaky and sensitive, Katniss whined and pushed at his shoulders when Peeta lingered. No sooner had he risen away from her, looking rightfully pleased with himself, than she was pulling him back for an ecstatic kiss.

When he settled by her side, Katniss could feel he was aroused once more. But she was still coming down, and her muscles felt so loose and lethargic that she couldn't do anything but give in to the languor, turning and tugging a corner of the sleeping bag over herself.

He chuckled, dropping an affectionate kiss behind her ear. She gazed drowsily into the banked fire as Peeta bundled her against his chest. They canted their legs together, and Katniss felt overwhelmed by the way they fit together, how just his presence at her back made her feel sheltered in a way that should be impossible in Panem.

As she drifted off, her last thought was, now that she knew the bliss and contentment of a night in Peeta's arms, how would she ever be able to turn her back on the chance to have that in her future?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really hope it was enjoyable.
> 
> If you never want to read the words "brick," "cob," or "clay," again, I'm sorry. When doing research on how they could possibly make an oven, I got in way too deep.
> 
> I mentioned Peeta being an unskilled dancer. Peeta dances without incident at the Victor's Ball in Catching Fire. However, he would have had instruction and time to practice, and Katniss states that the Capitol slow dance is barely a dance at all. We also know that Peeta has a very heavy tread. So while I don't ascribe to it as a personal headcanon, it's possiblethat he could be a terrible dancer.
> 
> Why two years between updates, you may be asking. I hate to sound like I'm giving excuses, but if anyone wants a super quick explanation: writer's block, dead laptop with all story files trapped on it, out-of-state move, new job, Cinders, Panorama of Panem, P.R.I.M., old-laptop decided to work again in time to get something posted for Katniss's birthday, and here we are. whew.
> 
> I've got all my OtT notes and drafts back, and I am in the process of moving everything to google docs and dropbox, so my files aren't only one device. Because that was a baaaad decision. This fic will probably keep moving at a snail's pace (hopefully a slightly faster clip), but I'm not giving up on it. I hope you don't either!
> 
> I am ghtlovesthg on tumblr. And please consider leaving a comment/review! :)


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